


Cherry Wine

by SteeleStingray



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: (not between Aimeric Nik or Jord), Abusive Relationship, Aimeric is feral, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, House sharing, Hurt/Comfort, I stg I'm not joking with these tags, Jord is a detective, M/M, Modern AU, Nik is a nurse, Overstimulation, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Praise Kink, Threesome, some kind of sex, you all know me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 63,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22260826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteeleStingray/pseuds/SteeleStingray
Summary: Aimeric's life is a mess: his family kicked him 4 years ago out for an accusation he made, he has no money, no education, and his current lover, whom he lives with, has a violent temper. All of his exes have had a little too much anger. At the local emergency clinic, he has just about given up on the idea that people can be good and kind and selfless.However, the clinic nurse does him two small favors and suddenly...there might just be some hope for him after all.
Relationships: Aimeric/Jord/Nikandros (Captive Prince), Ancel/Berenger (Captive Prince), Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Jokaste/Kastor (Captive Prince), Lazar/Pallas (Captive Prince)
Comments: 614
Kudos: 419





	1. Rum on a Fire

**Author's Note:**

> OHHHHHHH my fucking god I cannot stay away from this site; how in the heck did I manage to go so long without writing and sharing stories with you all??? I have a feeling this fic will definitely be longer than 12 chapters but I just have that number up to keep me accountable.  
> Anyways, I got such a good and positive reaction with my Reverse Bang fic that I decided to start a new one immediately after and focus on some more side characters and diverse relationships. And so now we have a Nik/Jord/Aimeric fic based on an idea I had on Twitter. I mean what I say in those tags when it comes to this story: I've done a lot of research and there are trigger warnings throughout for physical abuse and toxic/abusive relationships so be forewarned.  
> I know Aimeric is polarizing in the fandom but I really want you readers to like him, even a little ;)  
> Also shoutout to 1. Hozier for writing the song 'Cherry Wine' and making me fall in love with those lyrics enough to make them my fic title, 2. Kittendiamore (aka. Nikanndros) who I somehow managed to convince to be my beta/hype-woman. She is 100% too good for me.  
> Enjoy, my loves!

**1\. Rum on a Fire**

Aimeric was in pain.

He was a bare wire, a raw nerve ending, a fucking mess. Breathing hurt, which made him wonder if his ribs were broken and poking into his lungs, and his stomach cramped in a way that promised piss the color of  rosé wine. It took him almost twenty minutes to walk a single city block since he had to pause every few moments to catch his rattling breath.

He cleared his long, dark curls from his cheeks and pressed the entire side of his face against the walls of the building. The cool stone was a poor substitute for an ice pack but it did dull the low throbbing in his cheek.

The clinic was so fucking far, he could have cried.

In an alley a few shuffling steps later, Aimeric noticed that someone had left an armchair that was more foam and tattered fabric and splintering wood than a functional piece of furniture. It almost looked like someone had thrown it from the balcony rather than taking it down the steps but he was in no position to be picky. Praying that it been discarded for the lack of new upholstery instead of something like bed bugs, Aimeric shuffled over to the mound and collapsed on it. It was really a fucking shit day when even sitting down had him in agony. 

When he was able to catch his breath without feeling like he was going to cough up blood, Aimeric saw the previous owner had been kind enough to furnish most of the alley. 

There was a bureau splattered in white paint and missing half its drawers, picture frames bent at odd angles, a wicker chair missing the seat, and a mirror split into jagged slices. Catching his reflection in the silvery glass, Aimeric was forced to admit that he matched the sad state of the items around him.

He had been known as a local beauty in his hometown of Fortaine with his soft skin and elegant features, a slim body toned from years of competitive swimming and running in school, his wide eyes and easy laugh. It was hard to see that carefree boy in the tired young man who stared back at him from the polished depths of the mirror.

His soft brown curls--his best feature, according to his mother--had gone so long without a cut that they covered most of his head but pulling them aside revealed the sorry state of his face. The left side of his face from chin to forehead was still blighted red, though the parts that were throbbing instead of aching were beginning to blossom the deep purple of a long bruise. His bottom lip was swollen and split in two places, the blood long since wiped from his chin and he couldn’t see from his swollen left eye--his eyes being his second best feature, according to his mother. 

At least, thankfully, his nose was not broken and all his teeth were intact.

He was not sure he could say the same for his ribs, which rattled and stabbed as he laughed hollowly. He had long since learned to wear long sleeves so that he did not have to see the absolute mess that was his torso. 

“Aimeric, you’re a fucking mess.” He whispered and winced. He moved his curls tenderly so only the right half of his face was visible. “ _ Sh-shit _ .” 

It was going to be an expensive clinic visit and his funds were…

Aimeric groaned as he pulled his phone from his back pocket, ignoring the pain in his arm and the spiderweb of cracks in the corner of his phone screen. His heart sank as he opened his banking app and saw the contents of his bank account. It was barely enough to get a haircut and a cup of coffee afterwards. He squeezed his one good eye shut to prevent tears; crying was absolutely useless.

It would have to be enough.

If he had to suck the clinic owner’s dick, the amount in his account would have to be enough to make sure nothing was broken and to get a handful of pain pills. As he resigned himself to this possibility, his phone began to ring insistently and Aimeric went cold as he saw the name flashing on screen. 

He was not ready for this call.

Though there would be hell to pay later, Aimeric muted his phone with trembling fingers and slipped it back into his pocket. “Alright, bitch you’ve rested long enough. Time to get up.”

Despite his pep talk, it took Aimeric a few more deep breaths before he was ready to stand and he dry heaved from the pain once he was on his feet. His phone continued to buzz in his back pocket and he knew it would continue to do so until the battery died or he answered the call. He ignored it and staggered back into the light of the main street.

There was a light sheen of cold sweat across Aimeric’s entire body by the time he shuffled to the doors of the 24-hour clinic and smelled the familiar odor of bleach, rubbing alcohol, and floor cleaner that seemed to cling to hospitals and clinics. He saw the same dull look on the faces of the receptionists, the same sick, crying brats, and poor elderly coming to refill prescriptions and felt dread that someone might  _ know _ .

They might look at his sweater and his jeans or at his face and body language and just  _ know  _ that he was a liar and a failure and a lost cause.

Aimeric’s hand shook on the metal door handle as he realized that he had no excuse for his injuries. He had been to this clinic before and--though it had been months ago--he could not remember what he had told them on his first visit. 

A fall down the stairs? A mugging? A car accident? Something heavy falling on him? He wanted to avoid offering an excuse that needed to be reported but there was no way in hell he was going to tell the truth. No way in  _ hell _ .

Panic rose in his throat as he tried to remember his last excuse and the look of the doctor who had treated his fractures and bruises. He wondered if there was a note on his file here, announcing him as a liar and weak fool; he felt his heartbeat and panic as a tangible thing, pressing down on him. He could not go in until he thought of a plausible explanation for his visit.

He stepped away from the door too quickly as a woman exited with her children and the pain was excruciating. 

His knees his the concrete of the sidewalk first and his elbows prevented his battered torso from hitting not long after. The woman’s screams grated unpleasantly in his ears, but Aimeric was beyond caring. His body was one giant bruise, one open wound, one continuous wave of pain and the concrete was so cool on his body. For a moment, he wished he could sink into the stone and finally rest from his shitty life.

His phone continued to buzz.

“Oh gods, oh gods!” He heard the woman who had walked past him and her shadow fell over his face as she panicked. “Someone come quick!”

There was the telltale sound of a gathering crowd and Aimeric wished for an even swifter death as he caught sight of dozens of shoes in his periphery. 

“Excuse me, excuse me. I’ll take care of this.” The voice was the only one that was calm and blue scrubs tucked into a pair of heavy combat boots filled Aimeric’s vision. “Has he fainted or was he hit with the door?” 

“He just fell over when I left the clinic!” The woman was still in a state but she was no longer screaming thanks to the cool demeanor of the boot nurse. 

“Well, he’s still breathing…” If Aimeric had been in any other condition than crippling pain he might have taken offense to the near apathy in the man’s tone. Some nurse… “Excuse me,” a muscular, dark forearm covered in intricate tattoos reached down and gently scooped under Aimeric’s chin; he must have heard the soft moan of pain Aimeric couldn’t hold back when his fingers touched Aimeric’s bruised cheek because a warm thumb rubbed Aimeric’s upper lip and he shushed soothingly. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

The hand turning his head was large and warm but, fuck, it was strong; Aimeric’s neck might as well have been boiled for all the resistance it offered. 

From his one good eye, Aimeric got a good look at his unconventional nurse. 

And it certainly wasn’t a chore to look. 

He was southern Akielon, clear from his dark, smooth skin, sharp cheekbones, and aquiline nose. His ink-black hair was parted into dozens of thin braids that were gathered back in a bun at the nape of his neck; the color matched the calm, liquid depths of his eyes, so deep brown to be almost black. And of course he was huge, even crouching down. 

With an expert’s eye, he took in the ravaged left side of Aimeric’s face, the state of his neck, and whatever horrors were visible below the collar of his sweater. Although his calm expression never wavered, Aimeric had become somewhat of an expert in seeing rage in people’s eyes and the way their jaws clenched and he did not miss the slight flash of anger in his nurse’s eyes. He flinched from instinct alone and the fury passed. 

The nurse’s free hand cleared the curls from Aimeric’s forehead and nodded, now clear on why he had collapsed in the first place.

“He just needs medical attention. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be quick.” Aimeric’s head was placed tenderly onto the sidewalk so that the nurse could slide his hands under Aimeric’s back and knees. The pain was such that Aimeric buried his nails into the flesh of his palms and he gasped for air as the giant Akielon stood. “We’ll get him inside; sorry for the trouble.”

Every step rattled up Aimeric’s spine but the man clearly had long enough legs that they reached a private room before it became unbearable. The cheap, waxy paper they used to cover the padded tables crinkled around his body and he took a good five minutes to catch his breath as the nurse waited patiently.

“Nice tattoos.” Aimeric was finally able to make small talk and it was hard not to comment on the intricate geometric bands, delicate plants, and Vaskian runes that were stamped across the man’s forearms, up under the sleeves of his blue scrubs. “No snakes on a staff?” It seemed odd he was missing the traditional Akielon symbol of medicine.

But he hardly looked traditional.

In addition to the combat boots and the tattoos, he also had thin gold bands wrapped around some of his braids, a gold chain tucked down the front of his scrubs, and his fingernails were painted black.

“I like to keep work and private life separate. Now...the little scene outside allowed you to skip the paperwork and the line but we still need your info for our records. Are you feeling up to it or should I call an ambulance--?”

“ _ No _ .” Aimeric’s response was a little sharper than he would have liked and the nurse cocked his head. He was sharp...for an Akielon.

“Ok. Just the basics then and then I’ll figure out what you need.” As he retrieved a clipboard, Aimeric felt his phone vibrate again and swallowed. He tried not to look too guilty as he gave the nurse his name, birthdate, cell number, and email but things went to shit not long after. “Address?”

“I...I can’t give it to you.”

The nurse looked up, those liquid eyes sharp, his pen poised over the paper. “You don’t have a home address?”

“I  _ can’t _ .” The repercussions of anything being sent to the apartment for him would be twice as bad as this. The nurse blinked, his expression unchanging.

“I’ll leave it blank for now. Do you have your Veretian national insurance card so I can scan it?”

Aimeric felt very cold. “I have the ID number memorized. I-Is that not enough?” It  _ had  _ to be enough. He had come home about a month ago to find the card torn to shreds on the top of the garbage and all the IDs needed to replace it were back with his parents in Fortaine. They might as well have been ripped up as well.

Akielon nurse paused his scribbling again. “A new policy. We need to have an ID on record. You’ve been to us before haven’t you?”

Aimeric felt a panic attack creeping up on him like the sharp cold of hypothermia.

If he had been capable of movement, he would have buried his face in his hands and put his head between his knees. He had to settle for crushing his face into the waxy paper and trying not to hyperventilate. What in the  _ fuck _ was he going to do? No national insurance card and no money to pay for the visit either.

“Aimeric.” The nurse’s tone was gentle without being patronizing. It was a rare trait for people who got a glimpse into the absolute mess of his life. “Forget the ID card; can you show me why you’ve come and we can move from there? I’ll help you with your sweater.”

“You won’t get in trouble?”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He said it as a man who seemed absolutely unfazed by any kind of consequences. “It’s a bad habit I’ve picked up from some friends.”

“Some kind of nurse you are.” His contrary attitude kindled a bit of Aimeric’s naturally sharp tongue--not one of his best features according to everyone who knew him. He had tried to curb it but certain people brought it out in him.

“Would you prefer a different nurse?”

Aimeric glared even though the thought had his heart racing again. The Akielon smiled, sensing victory, and moved forward to help Aimeric sit up. The smile disappeared as Aimeric whimpered simply raising his arms and the sweater slid up over his head. He heard the familiar whistle of someone sharply drawing in breath and his arms moved protectively around his stomach.

He knew what the nurse would see.

Humans were not normally white with violet-black splotches, but Aimeric was the exception to the rule. At least the bruises covered up some of his scars. 

Though the nurse had seemed unfazed by Aimeric collapsing outside his clinic and refusing to give key details about his life, it seemed that his injuries were what finally cracked his professional veneer. The shock and outrage was clear in his eyes and his hands shook as his eyes flicked from spot to spot. 

Aimeric braced himself for the inevitable question. 

The man moved very slowly to move the curls from Aimeric’s face and surveyed the mess on his cheeks as well. The silence stretched on. 

“Aimeric--”

“I just want to make sure nothing is wrong; no broken bones, no internal bleeding.” Aimeric was alarmed at just how nonchalant he sounded, as if he was talking about his hobbies, “and see if I can get medicine for the pain.” 

“ _ Aimeric _ .”

The tone garnered no argument and Aimeric snapped his mouth shut out of habit. 

The Akielon nurse pulled over a stool so that he could sit down and consider what to do next. He certainly was surprising. “I just realized that I’ve not introduced myself. My name is Nikandros. I was born in Ios and my family can trace our genealogy back to the  _ kyroi _ of Akielon antiquity.” There was something very noble in his face and bearing but Aimeric snorted, wondering if he introduced himself like this to everyone who was half naked on his medical table.

“So humble too.”

Nikandos blinked and Aimeric swore he saw the corners of Nikandros’ mouth threaten to upturn. “I say that to excuse some of the wilder things I’m roped into. Most of the time against my will.” Aimeric sincerely doubted it; he had this nurse Nikandros pegged as a punk. “But I also want to give you a little insight into my character. Before I moved to the private sector I was in the Akielon military. My best friend joined the military and he is a walking disaster so I enlisted as a medic to patch him up whenever he inevitably got into trouble. We Akielons can be impulsive and tenacious and...hot-tempered.” He looked chagrined for a moment, as if thinking of several specific instances where he had witnessed said hot tempers up close, before schooling his expression to professional intensity. “My point is...I have seen my share of wounds.”

Aimeric felt his stomach drop to the soles of his shoes, fearful of what would come next. He ignored the pain of his bruises as he squeezed himself tighter, protecting himself. 

Nikandros’ deep voice was unerringly gentle and it was almost worse than when he had been suspicious. Aimeric could deal with sharp; he could not handle sweet. “I know what bullet holes look like, I know what it looks like when a man has been hit by a car and bitten by wild animals.” His dark hands stretched out and took Aimeric’s arms, baring the pale flesh. The finger marks were clear on his wrists and Nikandros looked at them with a curiously blank expression. “And I  _ know _ what it looks like when someone has had their ass kicked.”

Bile rose up in Aimeric’s mouth. He wondered what it was that made him a glutton for punishment but he could not control his smart mouth when he was backed into a corner. “Do you want a prize?”

“I have some resources--”

“Resources? You’re a nurse not a fucking therapist.” Aimeric was afraid that if he admitted one thing then...then everything would start to spill out, like one crack in a massive dam. “I fell down.” His phone buzzed again.

“Aimeric--”

“I. Fell. Down.” He insisted, unable to look Nikandros in the eye. “I fell down so you can jot that down in my file and then patch me up so you can take care of all the other people waiting outside.  _ Please _ .” 

Nikandros waited an absurdly long time to respond and Aimeric wondered if he was going to be kicked out for being, not only a liar, but a mouthy little bitch about it. He could hardly blame the man but the thought of having to walk to another clinic made him want to just curl into a ball. 

At least his phone had stopped buzzing.

“Lift your arms.” 

Nikandros had made his decision and had snapped gloves on over his tattooed hands. Though his expression was calm, his eyes had that apathetic determination that was so common in military men and people accustomed to seeing horrors. Used to orders, Aimeric lifted his arms and groaned.

At least Nikandros’ hands were warm through the latex of his gloves as he placed them gingerly on Aimeric’s bare skin. For such a big man and a ‘feisty’ Akielon, he was very careful to be gentle.

He listened carefully to Aimeric’s breathing, cleaned any open wounds with alcohol, and applied bandages liberally. Though he had been fairly talkative earlier, he did not speak much aside from giving short commands when he need Aimeric to move or breathe a certain way. His only expression of dismay was a sharp exhale when he saw the scar around Aimeric’s nipple: the stitched crescents of a deep bite that surely couldn’t have been pleasurable. 

Aimeric opened his mouth wide--he was good at that--so Nikandros could get a good look at the place where he had bitten it and a small light was aimed directly into his unswollen eye. Nikandros was shaking his head by the end of the check up, the gloves coming off with twin snaps. 

“It’s a miracle your nose and teeth aren’t broken.”

Small blessings; Aimeric had always liked the elegant shape of his nose. “Are you a dentist as well?”

“Be glad I’m patient, if anything.” Nikandros picked up his clipboard and scribbled something at the top, a small furrow between his dark eyebrows. “It seems like no other bones are broken, but you are going to be sore as hell for the next week...or more.” Aimeric almost bit his tongue to keep from saying that he was somewhat used to it. “Do you have any injuries below the belt?”

“Not this time.” Nikandros’ eyes narrowed and Aimeric felt a little cold.

“I know you don’t want any information on...places to stay or people to contact for your situation but I’m going to give you one thing.”

“I--.” Aimeric was about to give him some choice words on how he did not want or need help from some punk nurse but Nikandros had clearly been expecting a wave of bullshit and he was prepared.

“Do you have any money?” Aimeric’s mouth snapped shut hard enough to sting. “I’m conveniently ignoring that you have no national health insurance card and no address so I’m going out on a limb and guessing that you don’t have the money to cover the very generous pain medication I’m prescribing for you.” It must have shown on Aimeric’s face because Nikandros nodded. “Thought so. In that case, the very least you can do is humor me with this.”

“Are you sure you aren’t part Veretian?” Aimeric asked bitterly. “I never thought Akielons were much for blackmailing.”

“I guess Veretian tactics are rubbing off on me, despite my best intentions. There’s someone I know who...well, I guess I get it from him. Ugh.” Clearly he realized he was oversharing and got back to blackmailing Aimeric. “In any case, I’m going to give this to you, just in case.”

Aimeric accepted the pieces of paper Nikandros handed him; the man actually had decent handwriting. The top was his prescription but underneath was a small scrap of paper with… “Is this a phone number?”

“My personal phone number. Just in case you need emergency medical care or if you collapse outside another clinic.” It was a dangerous thing to have and Aimeric thought of all the places he could use to hide this unknown phone number. “Let me know where you are and I’ll come help you.”

Aimeric should have thanked him, but he could never trust a sincere act of kindness without wondering what strings were attached. “Why?”

Nikandros sobered up, his liquid, dark eyes boring a hole in Aimeric. “I am still Akielon and we’re...chivalrous in the worst instances. I can’t help but meddle when my gut tells me to stay out of other people’s business.”

“It sounds like you have the worst traits of both nations.”

Nikandros laughed. “Don’t make me regret this.” Aimeric felt a rare rush of warmth over receiving some actual, genuine human kindness and smiled back before trying to put his sweater back on. Nurse Nikandros moved to help him and clicked his tongue softly. “No fall should ever do this to you. You did nothing to deserve such a violent fall. Do you want help walking home?”

Aimeric could not meet the man’s honest, intelligent gaze; he silently wished that he had met someone like this pushy, unconventional nurse when he had first moved to the city. “Thank you but no.”

Somehow, the soft bit of kindness he had received only made him feel worse. Aimeric knew what he was missing out on and that there was nothing for him to look forward to at the end of all of this. He got his pain pills from the clinic pharmacist and took one immediately for the walk home, ignoring the judging stares of any other workers or patients who probably saw him as an addict.

The pain of his whole body dulled to a soft ache as he began to shuffle for ‘home’, the pills and Nikandros’ phone number crushed in his fist.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket. 


	2. Hot and Fast and Angry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely forgot which day I planned to upload this chapter so...you all can have it now haha! I'll get on a weekly posting schedule soon now that I've finished the outline and it LOOKS LIKE this fic will be 16 chapters long.  
> Once again for this chapter is TW: for violence and abusive relationships, but I promise it will ease a lot after this chapter. Also, Aimeric will get less sharp over time, I promise, it will just take a while but now he's just so destructive. Also let's welcome Jord to the party haha! He's Very Tired likely because Nik is such a force of nature and also he--like in canon--is weak to his lovers ;)  
> Enjoy <3

**2\. Hot and Fast and Angry**

On his slow, plodding way home from the health clinic, Aimeric finally decided to hide Nikandros’ number between his phone and his phone case and promptly forgot that it was there. 

He only remembered it three months later when his phone was thrown at his head and the case snapped off as it hit him in the temple. Ignoring the pain in his head that was sure to swell into a lump the size of a bird’s egg, Aimeric swiped his phone and case from the floor and almost rolled into the bathroom. A roar of fury followed him in and echoed off the bare bathroom walls.

There were swipes of blood on the white tile floors as Aimeric stumbled to his knees and pulled the door shut behind him, latching it with the deadbolt. He skittered back, his heart pounding as he heard something shatter against the door. Thank god the door was made of real wood and not ply, because Aimeric would stake his life that soon the throwing of breakable objects would cease and the pounding would begin, as his boyfriend attempted to break it down. Aimeric took a moment to set his throbbing forehead on the cool tiles, hoping to buy a moment of peace and clarity.

Aimeric could always tell when he was going to get his ass beaten--it was almost like a thickness in the air, a cord of tension above his head--but this was the first instance where he actually thought he might die. 

His throat and neck throbbed with each breath, a terrible side effect of being throttled and choked. 

He jolted, an entire body tremor, as he heard the all-too-familiar sound of a foot or a fist slamming against the wood of the door. The voice that followed was deceptively sweet. “Open the door, Aimeric.” Aimeric scrambled as far back from that sound as he could; he was terrified of it and did not trust it and yet...that voice could convince him to throw himself out of the window if he listened for too long. “Open the _fucking door_!”The monster was back and the door rattled in its frame as it was beaten ruthlessly.

If the wood could bend and splinter then there was no telling what those merciless fists would do to Aimeric’s body. 

There was the salt-iron taste of blood running from his nose into his mouth and Aimeric made his decision. He would not cower in the bathroom until the wood or the lock gave. The beating would be twice as bad for being the indirect cause of damage to their apartment.

His fingers were shaking almost too badly to unlock his phone and only when he looked at his empty contacts list did he realize that he had no friends to call, no one who would help him. A spot of blood dripped on his screen.

“ _Fuck me…_.” That would come later.

“Open this fucking door!” 

Blood dribbled from his mouth as he clutched his phone and wondered if he was truly desperate enough to involve the police. 

The deadbolt rattled and, as Aimeric looked around for a hiding place or a mode of defense, he happened to see his phone case and the small slip of paper that had been tucked flat inside of it. He almost tore it as he unfolded it.

“Once I get the key, you’re _fucking dead_ ! You _bitch_!”

It took Aimeric a moment to remember who ‘Nikandros’ was and why he had the man’s phone number crushed into the back of his phone case. Then he remembered the punk ass nurse, with his dark fingernails and his combat boots and his annoying mixture of Veretian and Akielon traits and his sincerity. To call him in case there was an emergency.

He was fairly sure there were a boot prints embedded in the flesh of his stomach and back, a small chunk of his hair had been torn out, and his face had been slapped to shit, not to mention the choking. It had never been so bad before and Aimeric was--for the first time ever--wondering if he would live to see the next morning.

That certainly warranted emergency status in his mind and it gave him the added benefit of not having to involve the police. He had never had much luck with the police who had visited him in the past and Nikandros surely had some fighting training in the Akielon military. 

Aimeric’s fingers trembled as he entered in the phone number, blood dripping on the corner of the paper. He noticed that two of his fingernails had been broken off in his defense.

He prayed that the man would not think it was a spam call and reject it.

Something else crashed outside and Aimeric pressed himself even deeper into his little corner. The phone rang leisurely in his hand.

“Hello?”

His voice was the soft, deep calm that only nurses and funeral directors had. Though it was frustrating, Aimeric felt at ease knowing that the man had seen all sorts of wildly disturbing injuries and he would be unflappable even face with Aimeric’s terrible state. 

“Hello? Hello? Lazar, I swear to the gods, if you call me during another one of your cam shows--.”

“N-Nikandros? The nurse from the clinic on Richelieu?”

Nikandros stopped his rant against this ‘Lazar’ fellow. “Who is this?”

Aimeric tried to sound calm and collected but it was hard when his teeth were chattering. “M-My name is Aimeric. I came to your clinic a few months ago after I...I fell down and you gave me your number. R-Remember?” He had not thought about what he would do if Nikandros did not remember him. 

“I remember you. Aimeric.”

The breath of relief was almost painful. “You gave me your number in case of an emergency and I--” Aimeric jerked as the door bowed under the pressure of the beating it was getting and he was sure Nikandros could hear it through the phone. No use hiding it.

“ _Aimeric, you fucking bitch! Open this door_!”

“Aimeric.” Nikandros sounded less calm now. “Are you safe? Are you in a safe place?”

“I fell down again.” Aimeric nearly laughed through his hysterics, the lie coming to him too quickly. “And I’m...I’m safe for now b-but...I don’t know how long that will last.” He did not want to beg outright.

“Who the _fuck_ are you talking to?”

“I’ll have someone come and get you.” Nikandros sounded like murder incarnate and Aimeric heard him pacing around. Typical fiery Akielon. “I can’t get away from my work at the moment but I’m sending someone to come and get you _out of there_ . You barricade yourself inside wherever it is you are and keep yourself safe. _Fuck_. Send me your address.”

“He won’t open the door to guests.” Aimeric whispered.

“Trust me. He will. Send me your address.”

Aimeric had always been good at being ordered around. He sent the address and waited; the only weapon he could think to defend himself with was the heavy ceramic back of his toilet. He kept expecting chunks to fall away from the door and an axe to be embedded on the other side, like in a horror movie.

The screaming on the other side was becoming more incoherent as time dragged on.

Fifteen minutes after he had called Nikandros, Aimeric heard insistent pounding from inside the apartment, likely from the front door. He hoped Nikandros had sent someone big. 

“Police. Open up.”

Aimeric felt his stomach drop; one of his neighbors had likely heard the commotion and called the police, less of concern for Aimeric than for wanting the noise to cease. They would force him to come out and then...there would be no escape. They wouldn’t believe him or they’d leave him homeless. 

At least the screaming and pounding stopped, as Aimeric’s boyfriend likely went to try and lie his way out of the situation.

“Aimeric?”

There was a soft rap at the bathroom door and an unknown voice outside. Still, he did not trust it entirely.

“Aimeric, Nikandros sent me.”

Aimeric caught his breath and shakily got to his feet. He unlocked the knob of the bathroom door but kept the deadbolt in place, just in case. Cracking the door, he peered out back into his apartment.

The man outside did not look like a police officer.

His accent was from the west of Vere and he was likely in his early thirties with a perpetual five o’ clock shadow, dark circles under his hazel eyes, and small glints of silver in his dark hair; his shirt and jacket had not been ironed in an eon and his jeans were fraying at the knees. He looked more like an exhausted detective that needed a cup of black coffee and a cigarette at all times. If he had to regularly deal with a punk like Nikandros, it was no wonder he looked so pale and tired.

It didn’t suit him but he also had a gold chain tucked down the front of his shirt that looked familiar. 

He smiled for a split second and it actually made him fairly handsome. “You’re all right? Nikandros told me to come as quickly as possible and escort you to the clinic.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Jord.” From the pocket of his jacket, he pulled his ID badge and flipped it open with the ease of a man who had done so often. “I’m a lead detective with the Marlas department and...I’m also Nikandros’, erm, partner. Are you able to walk?” So he _was_ a detective then. 

Aimeric ducked his head so his curls covered up most of his face. “I can.”

Even so, he hesitated before reaching for the deadbolt, glancing back into the dark interior of his apartment to where the fury he lived with was lying in wait. Jord followed his gaze and his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll be personally escorting you to the clinic.”

Aimeric wanted to ask if this Jord fellow would be escorting him home and staying at his elbow until this particular storm blew over. Otherwise he’d need to come back with a body bag and some chalk. Aimeric decided it was a problem he’d deal with later. 

His hands trembled on the latch and Jord saw his broken fingernails. “Easy, easy Aimeric. Take your time.”

It took Aimeric three times longer than usual to unlock the deadbolt and, once he was out, he ducked behind Jord’s lean form. Even so his boyfriend must have seen him, even at a glimpse. “Whose number is behind your phone? Huh, bitch? Who’s Nikandros, Aimeric? You cheating _bitch_!”

Aimeric cringed. 

There were three major reasons he got his ass beaten. First, were things that were his fault, like when he could not control his smart ass mouth or said ‘no’ a little too often or responded to orders a little too slowly. The second reason were things he could not control, like the weather being shitty or his boyfriend’s boss chewing him out or his lunch being cold and tasteless. At least he got an explanation for those beatings. 

The final reason was due to other people around him. 

Aimeric was not unattractive. In fact, when his face was not swollen to shit, Aimeric had been told that he had a sweet, lovely face. And sometimes just a stare or a smile directed his way from someone out on the street was enough to warrant suspicions of cheating. Aimeric’s boyfriend made damn sure that no one would even think about making a pass at him for the next three and a half weeks at least.

If he had seen Nikandros’ number then of course the only explanation was that Aimeric was cheating. And that was unforgivable. 

Aimeric knew that if he came back, he would be beaten to death.

“Who the fuck is Nikandros?”

Jord was not amused and his voice was flinty. “Nikandros is my lover.”

Ah. That kind of partner. 

At least it had shocked Aimeric’s boyfriend for an entire half minute. When he recovered, he was still venomous but his confidence was shaken. “How does it feel to know that your ‘lover’ is cheating on you?”

Jord snorted derisively and, had he not been a cop, Aimeric was reasonably sure punches would have been thrown. “Nik is a doctor.”

“Nurse.” Aimeric corrected. And then, before he could stop his mouth, “Nothing sluttier than a nurse.” Jord wheezed with laughter and Aimeric’s boyfriend looked at him with blatant murder in his eyes. Aimeric hoped he could not see the fist that Aimeric clenched on Jord’s jacket.

“Let’s get you to the clinic.” Jord said, composing himself, walking to the door in such a way that he shielded Aimeric from view. Even so, Aimeric caught the gaze of his boyfriend before he left. Just one look, and Aimeric knew he could never come back; over a simple phone number, he was as good as homeless.

Nikandros was not a man who was easily forgotten. 

Even from a distance it was hard to miss his tattoos and his teal scrubs, his combat boots and the braids, which were now hanging free to the small of his back. It was easier to see the soldier in him when he was restless.

He was pacing outside the clinic, clearly frustrated, and he perked up the moment he saw Jord approaching, half-carrying Aimeric.

“ _Fuck_!”

It was a wonder his boots did not crack the concrete as he strode over. Jord looked even more tired even though his face glowed with fondness. It was clear that nurse Nikandros bulldozed over him and he was more than pleased to let it happen. “Nidya, I told you I’d handle it.”

Nikandros shot a glance at him, his cheeks a little darker at the nickname. He composed himself as he looked over Aimeric’s new collection of wounds. “Did you break that bastard’s hands?” Embarrassed, Aimeric ducked his head so his curls hid most of his face. 

“I’m a police officer.” Jord argued weakly as Nikandros helped take Aimeric’s weight. “I cannot just go around dispensing vigilante justice like you Akielons do.”

“Laurent would agree with me and he’s not Akielon.”

“Sometimes I wonder if Laurent is even _human_.” Jord sighed.

“ _Ow_! Some fucking nurse you are.” Aimeric complained as Nikandros hoisted him completely off the ground. “Breaking hands and manhandling your patients.” Jord laughed softly.

“Oh, and you’re _welcome_ , by the way.”

Aimeric was about to tell Nikandros that it was his phone number that had warranted their ill-gotten reunion but Jord must have been thinking the exact same thing. He looked to Aimeric with the plea clear in his eyes: if Aimeric told Nikandros that he had been the unwitting cause of the beating then they would have to physically haul the spit-fire Akielon out of Aimeric’s apartment. It was amazing how he could understand so much just from a quick gaze.

He closed his open mouth but was unable to keep from thinking of another sharp retort as replacement. 

“Yes, thank you for sending a bike cop to my apartment.”

Nikandros turned his fiery, black gaze to Jord, who blushed. “It would have taken longer with traffic, Nidya...” Aimeric had also been equally unimpressed with the faded red bicycle that had been chained up outside the lobby of his apartment building. 

“Shame he didn’t think to bring a basket to throw me in.” Aimeric was sweating from pain and exertion as they approached the wheelchair nurse Nikandros had so thoughtfully left out for him.

Nikandros looked at him as though he could not believe Aimeric’s gall. Few people ever could. 

His next words were the sweetest of whispers. “Who here doesn’t have their health insurance card and is relying on the goodwill and _extremely_ thin patience of another?” 

Aimeric stared up at him in disbelief. 

He had forgotten how much Nikandros liked to blackmail his patients, in spite of dating a cop. Nikandros smiled back, knowing that it was unlikely that Aimeric would argue. Aimeric snapped his mouth shut just in time for them to reach the wheelchair.

He whimpered as they lowered him into it and wheeled him inside.

No one in the clinic even glanced his way and, in a twisted way, Aimeric was glad he wouldn’t have to come up with a lie on the very short ride to the private rooms. Nikandros stopped short just outside the door.

“Aimeric do you mind if Jord comes in with you for this?”

“Why?” Despite how helpful and unassuming Jord was, despite the fact that he had a gentle gaze and the fact that he was a detective instead of a normal beat cop, Aimeric still had a deep-seated distrust of police in general. 

“Moral support?” Jord offered.

“I want this in writing and filed.” Nikandros was clearly not so benevolent. “That is...if you don’t mind, Aimeric.” Two gazes turned to him--one pale hazel, the other so dark to be almost black--and he withered under the choice they offered. It would have been easier if Nikandros had just ordered him to do it. 

“Y-You won’t...press charges?” He asked, voice almost lost. 

“Not...if you don’t want.” Jord said, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “But you want to have a record of this in case you want to file a protection order or press charges in the future.” 

Just the thought of doing either of these things had Aimeric feel like he was going to faint. 

“He’d kill me.”

Nikandros looked like he was about to snap the handles of the wheelchair and Aimeric remembered, only too late, his excuse that he had fallen down last he had seen Nikandros. He had destroyed his own alibi, but...then again he had never thought that the sharp-eyed nurse had ever believed his flimsy excuse.

“Bastard. I should have gone to get you and we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“For the thousandth time, I don’t want to arrest you.” Jord sighed. Apparently Nikandros’ punk aesthetic was not just for show, as this seemed to be a recurring topic of contention between the two of them. 

“You can come in.” Aimeric said, giving in to the pressure of what they both clearly wanted.

He’d had to get good at knowing what people wanted without them saying.

Jord smiled at him. “Thank you. And, if you ever want me to leave for any reason or...or close my eyes or leave anything out of my notes, just tell me. I...I took a development class on responding to mental health in a crisis and it seems a waste not to set the taxpayer money to good use.”

Despite the fact that the two of them were apparently dating and that it was not the best situation for humor, it seemed that Nikandros was struggling not to laugh at Jord’s unusually sensible nature. They seemed so sweet to one another.

Aimeric wondered if slim, sweet Jord ever slapped Nikandros in the face or if stubborn, fiery Nikandros ever fucked Jord without lube because he liked it ‘tighter’. Dirty little secrets.

Jord held open the door so that Nikandros could wheel Aimeric inside.

All business once the latex gloves were on, Aimeric was surprised to see that Nikandros had not brought his clipboard along. Aimeric narrowed his eyes, always distrustful and Nikandros must have taken notice.

“What’s the point if you won’t give me your address or national insurance number?” His ability to know exactly what Aimeric was thinking was alarming but he stopped teasing to get down to business. “Let’s see what he--show me what happened.”

One good thing about the nurse’s outlandish appearance in comparison to his lover’s subdued one was that Aimeric completely forgot about Jord’s presence. He was too focused on not withering under Nikandros’ intense gaze. His hands trembled as he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. 

He heard Jord gasp and felt Nikandros’ gaze like a physical brand on his skin. It was ugly; he knew it was ugly.

“Gods…”

Aimeric wondered bitterly if Jord learned that reaction in his stupid fucking training. Anger and bile and poison and sorrow bubbled up his throat and he felt like he had to aim it at someone, _anyone_ as his body shook from the cold and pain and shame. And that nurse’s eyes were too steady.

“He found your phone number.” He said accusingly, relishing the brief look of horror that flashed in Nikandros’ dark eyes before he closed them.

And then Aimeric hated himself.


	3. It Looks Ugly, But It’s Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my main notes for this story is "Jord says stupid shit, Nik does stupid shit" so they are perfect for each other ;) Also Jord is completely helpless to Nik when Nik really truly wants something. Aimeric is disgusted by it right now but...hopefully he won't be for long!  
> And speaking of Aimeric, TW: again for mentions of abusive relationships. The rant I sent him on this chapter was after all the issues I've read of people struggling to leave an abusive partner, especially one that's financially abusive.  
> Also I have decided to update this story on Thursdays so keep an eye out each week for a new chapter. Enjoy!

**3\. It Looks Ugly, But It’s Clean**

Aimeric’s skin was mottled purple and black and yellow, the finger marks clear on his arms and throat. There was a burn on his back that was healing and the swelling on his cheeks had gone down from where he had been held down and methodically slapped until both his cheeks were scarlet. It was just as bad as the first time he had visited the clinic but...it was easy to forget how horrible Aimeric’s body could get after a bad day.

Nikandros’ eyes were still closed, as if he was meditating, but Aimeric could the vein pulsing in his temple. 

“Jord, you better write fast.”

“I’ll just record on my phone. I don’t think...I don’t think I’d have a steady hand.”

“Some cop you are.” Aimeric hissed, not feeling very empathetic. “Trembling at a little bit of blood.” It was hardly a ‘little bit’... 

Jord did not rise to the bait but Aimeric did not like the way the cop looked at him. He could understand Nikandros’ professionalism and fire, but he did not like the way Jord looked at him with something deeper than sympathy, like he wanted to fix this somehow. It was too close to pity for Aimeric’s liking.

Nikandros set things out carefully: bandages, cold compresses, cotton, tweezers, all the bits of tape that doctors used to try and piece him back together.

The hair tie that he used to hold back most of Aimeric’s curls was new, though several spirals refused to cooperate. Aimeric’s hair was just as contrary as he was.

The nurse tilted his head from side to side, looking at the finger marks on Aimeric’s neck. “Are you able to breathe properly? There’s no pain? I want to make sure it hasn’t bruised or crushed your windpipe.” Aimeric shook his head, though he found his head hurt when he turned it. “It looks like you might have sprained your wrist as well. It’s swelling up.”

Nikandros spoke aloud, cataloguing all the injuries, the list more extensive when spoken. Nikandros’ expression blackened as he continued, and he breathed steadily through his nose whenever he encountered a healed scar. 

The silence while Nikandros liberally applied bandages seemed to be too much for Jord to handle.

“How long has this been going on Aimeric?”

“The relationship or the...love taps?” There was no use in hiding things now, so Aimeric decided to be heartless. “Five months. For both. Well…” There had been a two week ‘honeymoon’ period before he had fucked up and gotten himself a black eye. 

Nikandros paused for a split second while wrapping a bandage around Aimeric’s waist. He looked like he was deciding whether to go on a hunt or not. 

“Have you filed a report before?”

“Never.” That wasn’t...entirely true.

“Why not?” Jord seemed genuinely confused, the gentle innocence almost hysterical on someone from the police force.

“I don’t trust the police.” Aimeric said, meeting Jord’s gaze unflinchingly. “They don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.”

“Would you like a sticker? Nikandros, does your office give lollipops away as a reward? I’d have thought you were blind if you didn’t believe me after...after all you saw.” Jord had the decency to flush at least.

“Be nice.” Nikandros commanded, taping the final cold pack to Aimeric’s flank. “I’m all done with your upper body. Is there anything I should know about below?” If this nurse was so deathly furious about physical violence, Aimeric wondered what his reaction would be if he saw the usual hell that was Aimeric’s lower half. He shifted uncomfortably. “I won’t force you.”

“What a nice change of pace.” Nikandros’ eyes narrowed at how ungrateful Aimeric was.

“So what do we do now?” 

“I was hoping you would be able to help me out with that.” Aimeric said. “All of my stuff is...back there and--” he did not say it but there was a small, twisted part of him that still hoped for the love of the first two weeks, that craved the familiar. Maybe he would go back and the love would pick up again; sometimes his boyfriend was gentle and pleasant when he had gone too far and Aimeric melted for it. 

His wavering must have shown on his face because Nikandros frowned. “You cannot go back. Absolutely not.” 

“You can just…leave this situation, you know.” Jord said gently.

There was something about his kindness, his naivete that had never known true cruelty, that made something in Aimeric snap. Most people would be stupid enough to ask him such a thing as they judged him silently for going back or going out to find someone who hit him a little softer at first. 

He fucking hated cops and this idiot Jord was a good reminder.

“Just leave? _Just_ leave? Ah, yes ok. I never thought of that before!” His false laughter edged along the borderline of hysteria and Nikandros’ eyes flicked between Aimeric and Jord in turns. “I’ll just leave! I’ll just leave and go back to my family--oh, wait! The family who kicked me out when I was sixteen with no documents or clothes or money and told me to never fucking come back! Or maybe I’ll go to friends, except you know, I’m not allowed to have any fucking friends because what if they want to fuck me?” The words spilled out of his mouth after building up for years of holding back. It was rare he had a captive audience for his sharp tongue. “No I get my ass beat for having a single person around who even knows my name, much less considers me a friend.”

“And you know, I don’t have any fucking money because I’m not allowed to have a fucking _job_ , so I can’t rent a place to stay or even pay for this delightful experience. Oh, ha! And since I have no job, my name isn’t on the lease for my old place, I can’t pay for my phone bill, and I’m probably not going to _eat_ .” Overwhelmed with frustration and pity and shame over his situation, Aimeric began to drip tears and snot, his chest hitching as he tried to speak over sobbing. “I can’t find a fucking job, since I have _no_ experience, and I only have the clothes I’m wearing right this second and I currently have a face that no one would want to fucking hire.”

He was smiling, the expression more of a wild snarl, but he could not see their reactions through his tear-blurred vision. “So let’s recap, shall we? I have _no_ friends, _no_ family, _no_ money. Why don’t I fucking leave? Because the way I see it, you stupid son of a bitch, is that I have two fucking choices. I can go back to the apartment where either I’ll be beaten to death before tomorrow morning or he-he’ll _love_ me again or I can go out and try to find someone who will take me in. It worked _so_ well for me last time, since there’s only one type of guy who will just take me in and they just want one thing and then...then they always, _always_ hit me.”

It was so terrible admitting it, especially to these strangers.

“I don’t fucking leave because it’s always more of the same!” He crushed his hands against his face, ignoring the sharp stab of pain; tears ran down his arms and dripped off his elbows. “I’ll never be free of it because I have nothing, I have nobody _except_ him, you stupid fucker! So yeah. Yeah, I’ll just fucking leave. What a brilliant idea.” 

It hit him then, what a terrible life he had and how he had been happy once, happy and carefree. It hurt worse than the beatings.

Keeping his hands against his eyes, he leaned down and bawled. 

Snot and tears intermingled over his knuckles and his shoulders shook helplessly. He didn’t care who saw; he had not cried in years and his body had decided to make up for lost time. Aimeric cried until his throat was sore and he was shaky and tired from all the lost fluid and emotions. 

The first thing that he saw were Nikandros’ elaborate tattoos, up close since he was crouched by Aimeric’s knees. His dark eyes scanned Aimeric’s face and he moved very carefully as he pushed curls out of Aimeric’s vision.

At some point during Aimeric’s sobbing session, the nurse had wetted a washcloth with warm water and now used it to wash Aimeric’s face clean. For being such a big Akielon and an unrepentant bastard, he was very gentle while wiping away the salty tracks Aimeric’s tears had left.

Aimeric closed his eyes, the warmth suffusing his skin as he was cleaned. 

It felt nice. 

Aimeric relaxed a little, his cries tapering off to shuddering breaths as his face and neck and arms were wiped clean. Nikandros’ voice, when it was soft and gentle, was actually quite pleasant. “No one should hit you. No one should be beating you like this. It’s not right and it’s...it’s not your fault.” Akielons were known to be unthinkingly familiar with near strangers and Nikandros must have been unable to help himself as he placed one hand gently on Aimeric’s cheek. 

The heat coming from his palm mixed with the genuine tenderness coming from the gesture was so foreign to Aimeric that he could have subsisted on that small bit of kindness for a year. 

“Jord, options.”

When the hand left his face, taking the warmth with it, Aimeric felt wrung dry.

Nikandros was looking up at his boyfriend, clearly trying to think of a solution. “Are there any shelters for things like this?”

Jord sighed and thought carefully, not wanting to misspeak as he had before. Aimeric already knew what his answer would be. “There are hardly any shelters for men in his situation. And...you wouldn’t want him at any other type of shelter. It wouldn’t be good.”

“They’d eat me alive.” Aimeric said hollowly. 

Nikandros got to his feet and began to pace, clearly his tell when he was frustrated. Even though he knew Nikandros was a nurse and a former army medic and would not harm him, Aimeric was still nervous around a man on the edge of anger. He held his breath. 

When Nikandros stopped and looked up, it was above Aimeric’s head. 

His black gaze was fixed on Jord and it burned hot. “Jord.”

Just calling his name must have given enough of his thoughts away because Jord sighed like he was about to be dragged into something unpleasant. “Nidya...I know what you’re thinking.”

“Don’t you trust me Jord?” Aimeric was shocked over the change that came over Nikandros, his gaze melting into sweetness, his smile pleadingly sweet. It was the calculated move of a man who knew the weaknesses of his lover. “Didn’t you swear to protect and serve?”

“Didn’t you swear to stop doing this to me?” Jord groaned pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a probable headache.

“Oh, he blackmails you too?” Aimeric said.

“He’s good at it.” Jord sighed. “Picked it up from a friend of ours.”

Nikandros crossed his arms and--judging by his muscled forearms and determined expression--Aimeric would be betting on Nikandros to emerge the victor in this dispute. “I fucked up once and I don’t intend to do it again. _Please_ Jord.” Aimeric looked back to Jord to see how he would handle this blatant manipulation.

Aimeric had never seen a man cave so quickly. 

Jord looked profoundly exhausted for a split second before he allowed himself a disbelieving smile. “I won’t rest easy either. And it’s not fair; you know how to appeal to my generosity.” Nikandros’ smile was so wide and delighted, it almost hurt to look at it directly. Though he was annoying and huge and Akielon, Aimeric could see how people might find the punk nurse fairly attractive. 

He felt as if he was intruding on something private and was almost surprised that Nikandros remembered that he was present.

“You finished flirting?” Aimeric asked sharply. He was uncomfortable when confronted with actual love. Nikandros narrowed his eyes, though his smile did not dim.

“Don’t make me regret this Aimeric.”

“We know a place where you can stay.” Jord sighed.

Having the shit kicked out of him and subsequently interacting with two of the most irritating people on earth had apparently tired out Aimeric more than he realized. While Nikandros finished up his shift at the clinic, he allowed Aimeric to rest in one of their unused examination rooms. Aimeric curled up on the wax paper and, despite the pain, was asleep almost immediately. 

There was pain even in his dreams. 

It was almost a relief when he felt a gentle shake on an uninjured spot on his shoulder. He woke immediately to the idiot detective’s gentle, exhausted gaze and frowned on instinct. 

They had called a cab--though Jord would be retrieving his bike to ride home--and it was only when Aimeric was nestled in the front seat that he wondered if this was some elaborate ruse.

Like something out of a trashy thriller, maybe the doctor and the nurse liked to find vulnerable young men to lure away to some unknown spot. Maybe they’d sell him to someone wealthy and twisted or lock him up as a slave or just murder him. And Jord was with the police and Nikandros had been with the Akielon army, so no one would believe some scruffy transient over two such upstanding men.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire and he had no one to warn in case he didn’t ever show up in the city again. 

He gripped his phone, hoping that it would not run out of battery anytime soon. 

The cab began to slow when they reached the traditionally-Akielon Olbos District, an area that was known for being too family-friendly and upper middle class for Aimeric and his ilk. Maybe in his younger days he would have enjoyed the area with his family but now...he could not imagine living in one of these clean, fresh marble buildings, with olive and lemon trees populating the green space and small turquoise pools shining invitingly in the sun.

Aimeric was only twenty but he was anything but fresh and clean. 

The building the cab stopped in front of was simple and elegant, made of marble that was tan with pink and grey veins, and a heavy wrought iron door in the Veretian style. It was unlike any shelter Aimeric had ever seen before and he looked at Nikandros questioningly as the man helped him out of the cab.

“Believe it or not, I don’t have the money to even sleep on the sidewalks of the Olbos District.”

“I believe it.” Nikandros said, tossing one of Aimeric’s arms over his shoulders. “But you’re not going to be sleeping on the sidewalks. We’re going inside.” Aimeric did not even have time to argue as Nikandros hoisted him up so he did not even have to walk, Jord waiting inside to open the main door for them.

Aimeric thought of chains and whips waiting behind their good intentions. 

Instead, apartment 2B on the second floor revealed a spacious living area, bright and tastefully decorated. It looked almost like someone’s personal home, or perhaps a place a couple would share together, and Aimeric stopped short at the welcome mat. It was a _home_.

“Come in, please.” Jord said, sliding off his loafers. “Excuse the mess, Nid--Nikandros called me in the middle of doing laundry and I ran out.” Aimeric saw the pile of clothes on the cream couch, the telltale teal of a pair of scrubs hanging halfway onto the floor. 

This was clearly their home. _Their home_. 

Aimeric looked in panic to Nikandros. “What? Are you going to judge us for the state of our home when we have unannounced guests?” 

“You’re...you’re letting me stay in your _house_ ? Where you _live_? For free?” 

“Do you have any better ideas?” Nikandros raised one eyebrow.

“What’s your angle?” Aimeric narrowed his eyes. 

“We’re not allowed to be decent humans?” Jord sounded somewhat offended at the theory that he could have ulterior motives. 

“No one does this kind of thing for a stranger. Especially not asking for anything in return. I have no money to pay rent for this kind of place.” And he was in no condition to fight. Nikandros glanced at him with something a little softer than contempt, Jord with horror.

“We would never--”

“He won’t believe you, Jord.” Nikandros sighed. “No matter what you say. Come on, almost there.”

They half-carried him through their living room, past the clean Veretian-style kitchen, and long dining table to a closed door halfway down the hall. Behind the door was a small, pleasant room that was likely only used as a guest bedroom. The last bits of afternoon sun were coming in through the single window, three little succulents on the windowsill soaking up the light. There was an empty nightstand with a single lamp and a single book atop it, a single framed abstract of greens, teals, and browns on the wall above the bed as if this room had been taken directly from the townhouse showroom. Still, if it was meant for him, it would be the first private room he’d had in years.

“It’s...a little sparse, I know.” Jord sounded embarrassed over the minimalist decorating.

“As if I’d complain.” Aimeric replied. “I was expecting it to be some kind of sex dungeon or a murder chamber.” Jord sounded like he was choking on his own tongue. “I’ll take the bare walls.”

“As if we could do something so messy with this rug in the room.” Nikandros was deadpan as he motioned the pale Patran rug on the floor. “But you can stay here. Temporarily. Just don’t trash our house or throw wild parties or bring any one of your past ‘lovers’ over.” 

Aimeric glared. “ _Please_. I have more manners than that.”

“You could have fooled me. You trusted us and now...we’ll trust you.” His black gaze was intense. “If you rob us though, gods help me, I’ll find you.” Aimeric refused to let the punk know that he was terrified of such a thing and glared back. 

They placed him on the bed and Nikandros arranged his limbs with an expert’s eye so Aimeric was not in pain while lying still. 

“I’ll go get you an ice pack.” Jord offered.

But it didn’t matter; having the shit kicked out of him was exhausting and he was asleep before Jord came back.

When he woke, the sun had almost set and his body was achy and stiff from lying in the same position for too long. He had to piss something terrible and, as he shuffled out of the room _\--his_ room--he heard muted speaking from the living room.

He peered out carefully and saw that Jord was leaning over Nikandros, his hands on those broad shoulders.

“Nidya, don’t you think we’re...being too impulsive with this?”

“Blame it on my blood; I’m a nurse and I cannot stand seeing people injured. Besides for all that he has the personality of a cactus, no one deserves that kind of beating over a phone number.” Nikandros sighed as Jord began to massage soft circles on Nikandros’ shoulders. “I don’t know what we’ll do about his things. I’m nervous that…”

“A lot of times they go back.” Jord agreed softly and Aimeric tasted bile in the back of his throat. He did not like being judged. “It’s comfortable and normal to some people.” Clearly Jord realized he had misspoken as he cringed at Nikandros’ expression. 

“How could you _think_ such abuse is normal?” Nikandros was filled with fire.

“Some people only know pain as love. It is all they’ve ever known and it can be hard to break the cycle and relearn how to love.” Though he hated Jord for saying it aloud, Aimeric knew the truth to his words. 

His mother’s love came with guilt attached, his brother’s with indulgent indifference that one might give a slightly annoying pet. His father’s love was conditional; everyone who knew Guion knew that he would only care if it would gain him something. All sexual love was equated with force. 

“I want to help him. Any way I can.” Nikandros’ expression was so determined that Aimeric was sure that if his twisted psyche was a tangible thing then Nikandros would try to snap it with his bare hands. What a nurse he was.

Jord kissed the dark column of Nikandros’ neck. “Nidya, you can’t fix everyone.”

“I can fucking try.” Nikandros leaned back into Jord.

If Aimeric wasn’t thoroughly disgusted and in pain by the two of them speaking so casually about something that did not affect them, he might have been jealous. The clear warmth of their love and intimacy suffused the entire room. It felt like something he could not hope of achieving, a gentleness that he couldn’t grasp. 

When he used the bathroom, the color that came from him was red.

That was more of what he knew. Jord’s sensibilities mocked him.

It was ‘comfortable’ and ‘normal’. It was all he knew.


	4. Don’t Fuss Over Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> So, in 'Without Question, I Love You', I very much made Nikandros the voice of reason but here he's absolutely and unstoppably feral. Jord just smiles like a 50s housewife and goes 'yes, dear' to all his crazy ploys haha!  
> Also all the friends and favorites have arrived in this chapter! Someday I swear I'm going to make a Lazar-focused story because he is a terror and I love him so much...  
> Enjoy!

**4\. Don’t Fuss Over Me**

Much to Aimeric’s dismay, Jord and Nikandros were actually decent people who did not make it a habit to assault their guests. Aimeric woke up to the door he had locked, a glass of water and a pain pill set just outside with a handwritten note from nurse Nikandros. 

‘ _ Aimeric, _

_ I know you’re probably thinking that this is Rohypnol or some other kind of bullshit  _ (Aimeric twisted his lips, as this was exactly what he had first considered) _. It’s not. It’s a very low dose of painkiller and if you don’t trust the water, dump it out and get some from the tap. Jord and I will be home by 5 PM to deal with the issue of your possessions. Clean bandages are above the sink in the guest bathroom. Don’t run away. _

_ -Nikandros’ _

The last line of the message was entirely unnecessary.

Aimeric could be outpaced by a tortoise as he shuffled to the guest bathroom and got a shower. He wouldn’t be running anywhere if he was out of breath simply from washing his legs and even had to curl up on the bath mat to let the waves of pain and exhaustion pass. It was a further imposition to have to put on dirty clothes again; he had no idea where he was going to get the money to replace his wardrobe and so the dirty clothes would have to go back on.

It was too much of a pain to pull on his jeans so Aimeric wore his shirt and his briefs, wrapping a sheet around his shoulders so he wouldn’t dirty the furniture. 

Jord had left a note for him as well on the kitchen table--Aimeric wondered if those two were the annoying type to leave each other gooey messages on sticky notes around the house--and his was much more gentle than Nikandros’ had been. From Jord, he learned that there was some garlic soup and light porridge for him in the fridge if he felt hungry, how to access the wi-fi, and where he had left the spare phone charger and emergency phone numbers. Aimeric did not even want to bother trying to shuffle over to find bowls and heat up a meal, instead curling up on the couch closest to the phone charger.

The moment his phone had enough juice to power on, it buzzed and the effect was Pavlovian.

Only one night and he had forgotten how quickly he could answer his phone after a catastrophic fight; his voice was the meekest of whispers. “What do you want?”

It was going to be difficult.

His voice was as gentle and sweet as the dream lover of Aimeric’s innocent teenage years. “Baby, is it you? Aimeric, honey I’m sorry. You know I don’t--” Aimeric could feel himself slipping into the familiar comfort of that sweetness, like he was being hypnotized. “I love you so much, I was  _ scared _ you were going to leave me.” I hit you because I  _ love _ you. If only  _ you _ hadn’t done this thing Aimeric then we wouldn’t both be in pain...well, my pain is more mental while yours is...well it isn’t  _ my _ fault. Come back to me and I’ll make it right.

It was a familiar song and dance.

Love and sweetness for a short while, long enough for the bruises to fade and then he’d be caught in the vortex again. Aimeric knew, the sensible part of him knew, but at the same time he wanted that love again. Maybe if he tried harder…

“I know you, babe. Where are you? Let me come get you and we can talk this out. We can really  _ try _ this time.” 

Aimeric felt his bottom lip tremble. He had always tried, he had always done his best with nothing to show. He was almost swayed.

“Aimeric?”

He remembered Jord and Nikandros, warm with love. ‘ _ A lot of times they go back…Some people only know pain as love _ .’ If common sense could not have Aimeric rebel, then spite was a decent enough substitute. He did not want to prove that punk nurse and the holier-than-thou detective right. His indignation over the thought of them shaking their heads as they came back to an empty home, decrying him as a lost cause cut through the stupor of the cycle he was being drawn into. 

“I’m not coming back.” He almost gasped at his own audacity. 

“W-What?”

“I’m not coming back.” Aimeric spoke quickly, as he often did when he was angry. He knew his boyfriend hated it because it made it hard to interrupt Aimeric once he got going. “I’m staying where I am now and hoping that they’re better to me than you are. I’m tired of this shit! I’m tired of going to the clinic every damn month and pissing blood. I want to have a job and friends and a fucking  _ life _ ! Not just stay at home and wait for you to come home and find something wrong.” He knew that if he had ever said such things to his boyfriend’s face then he would be short several teeth by the next morning. “I’m tired o-of you!”

“Aimeric, let’s meet and talk this over.” He was still carefully sweet but there was an element of wheedling that Aimeric hated.

“I’m not meeting you anymore.”

“Whatever these guys are doing for you, I can--”

“Listen to me! I’m not coming back! I’m not going to come back to you this time!” It was a good thing his phone was plugged in or he might have thrown it across the room in frustration. 

“Aime--”

“You fucked up! I’m leaving you no matter what!”

“Listen bitch!” There was the snap and Aimeric cringed at the anger, even though he was fired up. Before he was subjected to a verbal lashing, Aimeric ended the call, his heart racing. 

He had never done something so bold as to hang up on his boyfriend-- _ ex  _ boyfriend--and it was unsurprising when he received another call only a split second later. He was not going to pick up, at risk of being called a ‘fucking bitch’ half a dozen times in the first sixty seconds of conversation. The fight and fire left him in a rush and he curled up on himself with bone-tired exhaustion, lulled by the constant buzzing of his phone.

He hardly jolted as someone came home and placed a hand on his forehead.

There was a soft Akielon curse and the telltale thumping of heavy boots across wood floors. Nikandros must have taken an early shift at the clinic.

A pill pressed insistently against his lips and he took it. “You have a little bit of a fever from your injuries. This is ibuprofen and it will bring it down; here’s some water.” Nikandros was gentle but firm, pouring what felt like half a gallon of water down Aimeric’s throat. 

“Your hand is hot.” Aimeric responded as the nurse laid his head back down.

Nikandros rolled his eyes and looked over as Aimeric’s phone buzzed. Aimeric did not even bother to try and tell him not to look; Nikandros would figure it out anyway. His handsome face darkened with latent fury and he was kind enough to read the text message aloud for Aimeric’s benefit:

“We’ll talk when you come back to get your things.”

“So…broke up with my boyfriend. He took it well.” Aimeric tried to laugh but it came out more like a sob. He knew that if he gave his ex a single opportunity to get him alone to talk, he’d cave in. 

“Don’t go.”

“I hope you like this outfit then, because it’s what I’ll be wearing for months.” Aimeric said. He did not want Nikandros to know how at war he was with himself. He knew he shouldn’t go...but a small part of him thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Nikandros narrowed his dark eyes and Aimeric was unsurprised to see him begin pacing as he thought. “Is there anything else valuable of yours in that apartment?”

“Aside from my clothes...my metro pass, I guess.”

Nikandros did not comment on how sad it was that someone would consider a pre-loaded metro card a ‘valuable’. “Ok. Good to know. You rest off that fever. I have a few phone calls to make.”

Aimeric didn’t care but he was too exhausted to let Nikandros know. 

The ibuprofen began working around early evening and Aimeric was at least lucid when Jord came home looking surprisingly refreshed for man who had just finished a shift at work. “You’re awake? Feeling better?”

“Peachy.” 

If he caught the sarcasm then he ignored it. “Where’s Nikandros?”

“Making phone calls, I assume.”

Jord looked over at him and there was a chip of panic behind his smile. “Not rallying the troops I hope?” Aimeric responded with the coldest look he could muster; as if he could crawl from his feverish state long enough to go listen in on Nikandros’ conversation. “That shirt looks just like the one you wore yesterday.”

“Yeah, because it fucking  _ is _ .” Aimeric was appalled at how any man, a detective in particular, could be so obtuse. “All my clothes are at my ex’s place and for all I know they’re being pissed on or thrown in the garbage so I hope you like the look of this shirt. You’ll be seeing a lot of it.”

“Be nice, spit-fire.”

Jord looked at once delighted and exhausted as Nikandros reappeared. “Nidya…”

“Hi love. I suppose the heat of his fever comes out through his mouth. Ignore him.” Nikandros was in all black, his look finally matching his anarchist attitude and he seemed almost delighted by Aimeric’s current predicament. “And Aimeric, don’t worry about your things. We’re actually going over now to go get them.”

“ _ What _ ?” Aimeric looked to Jord. He seemed to be the more sensible of the two though it wasn’t by much. He looked just as flabbergasted.

“I knew it…”

Nikandros ignored their alarm. “If he pisses on your clothes, we’re going to throw him out the window.”

“‘We’ nothing.” Jord sighed, looking exhausted. “I’m part of the police force and he knows it, so I can’t be directly involved in this outright intimidation.”  _ Ah _ . So blackmail and intimidation again. “Be happy I’m turning a blind eye to this as well.” Aimeric doubted that Jord could ever stop Nikandros from doing whatever the hell he wanted, police or no. 

“I’m taking a few friends, Jord.”

“ _ You _ are Damen’s impulse control and the voice of reason with the Akielons.” Jord groaned. “Knowing our friends, this plan does not set me at ease in the least.”

“Agreed.” Aimeric said.

He did not personally know their friends, but he could only imagine what kind of wild bastards they must be if they found Nikandros and Jord’s company to be palatable on a regular basis. 

Nikandros nodded, clearly pretending that he was listening. “I’ll be back in an hour.” 

Aimeric groaned and shambled off toward the guest bedroom so that he could take a good twenty minutes to put on his dirty jeans. He did not want the guests to see him in a bedsheet or--worse--catch a glimpse of the bruises on his legs. He did not hurry back; there was not much to amuse him save watching Jord’s nervous tells as he waited. 

Jord did not pace, like his lover did. 

Instead, his edginess was revealed through careful organization. He was slow as he brewed a pot of coffee and laid out a dozen mugs on the counter. Next were the lines of spoons, three different types of creamer, and a five pound glass jar of sugar. Clearly there was a connoisseur in the house and Jord’s constantly exhausted and haggard face made it an easy guess as to who it was.

“Want any?”

Aimeric hadn’t had coffee in ages and had much preferred the lattes that were more dessert than coffee. “No.”

“Suit yourself. I swear to the gods, my bloodstream is half black coffee.” The largest mug was Jord’s and he filled it near to the brim. Aimeric watched, almost in awe, as Jord downed the entire mug in less than a half an hour.

At least he did not feel the need to make useless small talk as they waited.

Jord almost spilled an entire second cup across his marble counters as the front door was all but kicked down. Aimeric bristled as a pack of people came spilling into Jord and Nikandros’ living room, filling the quiet, clean space with utter chaos.

Aimeric ducked his face back behind his curls to keep them from seeing his bruises. 

Nikandros and three enormous, similarly tattooed Akielon men were the first inside, with small boxes in their massive arms and Aimeric almost wilted at the sight of them. According to his expert eye, any one of them could throw a punch that could knock him out cold. Following them were a beautiful trio--two men and a woman, looking like siblings in their coloring--and finally two Veretian men, one grinning widely and the other looking even more exhausted than Jord. Each one of them carried a box and Aimeric honestly did not remember having enough possessions to warrant such a group moving him out.

“Success?” Jord asked as he mopped up his spilled coffee.

“Who drinks coffee at six o’ clock in the evening?” One of the big Akielons asked. 

“Of course we were successful. With Damen and Pallas who would even think about fucking with us?” Nikandros was grinning widely as he bounded to the kitchen to kiss Jord while Aimeric was left to flounder under the curious gazes of their guests.

“You should have seen it, Jord.” The lovely woman laughed as she accepted her coffee. “They had me ring the door--nothing more reassuring than a beautiful woman, right?” Her dark blue eyes glittered with anything but innocence and Aimeric was almost impressed by her easy confidence in her looks. “His fucking  _ face _ when he saw our boys, gods I wish I had taken a picture. Nikandros introduced himself and said what we were here for and I thought his head would explode.” 

“He didn’t give you any trouble?” Jord asked the Veretian man who seemed to match his exhaustion.

“I think he knew he was outmatched. I think the only time he came close was when Lazar started rummaging through the fridge.” 

Aimeric thought back to what the hell he might have had in the fridge but the grinning Veretian, who he could only assume was Lazar, was more than happy to provide an explanation. “I was  _ hungry _ , Berya.” What a chaotic man, to make himself food in someone else’s house he was intruding in.

“Don’t call me that. And who the fuck pairs a peanut butter sandwich with hardboiled eggs?” The tired man looked disgusted.

“We didn’t know what was his so…we kind of just took whatever looked right.” One of the Akielons admitted. “If we stole anything by accident, I’m sure Auguste can step in.”

“Ah, the joys of being a lawyer,” said the younger of the blond men as he draped his arms across the woman’s shoulders.

It had been so long since Aimeric had had a decent sized group of friends that he had forgotten the warm, wild atmosphere that accompanied a large group. In spite of his natural defenses, he relaxed slightly. 

“Is this him?” The other blond man asked, inclining his head toward Aimeric.

“Introductions, shit.” Nikandros put his coffee cup down. “Yes, Auguste this is Aimeric. Aimeric, Auguste. And over here we have Auguste’s younger brother, Laurent.” Aimeric saw the family resemblance in their wide, pale blue eyes, golden hair, and wicked curving smiles that they shot at one another but Auguste had dark golden facial hair giving him a ruggedly handsome look.

If Aimeric was lovely, then Laurent was ethereal. Aimeric wasn’t sure if he was more jealous or in awe over how a man could have such good looks.

Aimeric’s head spun as he tried to remember all the names. Jokaste was the name of the beautiful woman who was not, in fact, Laurent and Auguste’s sister in spite of her similar coloring and Kastor, one of the giant Akielons with half a shaved head, was her husband. Then came Pallas, with his sweet, boyish face and the body of an Akielon god, his boyfriend Lazar--the one with the wild, wicked smile--and his antithesis, Berenger, whom Lazar cheerfully described as ‘the human embodiment of all-purpose flour’. 

Finally, Nikandros grabbed the tattooed arm of the tallest man Aimeric had ever seen in his life. He had a lion’s mane of bushy black hair and the sort of natural, unaffected attractiveness that wasn’t fair. “This is my best friend, Damen. He dragged me into the military with him and now he works in the private sector,” Aimeric distantly remembered that Nikandros had mentioned a friend who needed to be regularly patched up and wondered if this man was the one; he certainly was a big enough target to warrant injury. “He’s also Laurent’s fiancee, much to my chagrin.”

Laurent rolled his lovely eyes, “Some fool attempted to sue his company and he spent the entirety of the trial flirting with me shamelessly as Auguste attempted to cross-examine him. I felt as though I  _ had _ to accept his offer of a date or he’d commit perjury.”

“I regret nothing.” Damen said. 

“I’m beginning to worry that you and Jord are the normal ones.” Aimeric whispered in a mixture of shock and horror. Damen happened to overhear and nodded seriously. “Gods save me.”

“But now they’ve picked up a little lost lamb, like proper madmen.” Lazar elbowed Jord hard enough to make him spill coffee again and Aimeric saw the telltale silver glint of a tongue piercing from inside the man’s mouth. 

Nikandros snorted. “A lamb. He’s got the curls but give him time; he’s just as much a viper as any Veretian.” Aimeric narrowed his eyes but couldn’t refute the observation. 

As chaos raged on around him, Aimeric leaned down gingerly to open one of the boxes.

The first one was a surprise.

“The fuck? Are these...shoelaces?” Almost a dozen of them coiled up on top of a pile of loose lightbulbs, three pairs of reading glasses, six boxes of cereal, two good handfuls of loose batteries, a TV remote, and what looked like the hot and cold water knobs from his ex’s bathroom sink. Lazar looked over, mid-conversation, and started laughing.

“Oh. Yeah, that one’s mine. Everyone else seemed to look like they had it handled so...I just kind of took whatever seemed annoying to lose. Like...one shoelace from every pair of shoes in his closet or the TV remote.” The three blondes were hysterical on the couch and the Akielon men were shaking as well.

“You’re such an asshole.” Jord groaned, though he too was smiling.

“I am what I eat. Anyways--”

Aimeric was sure he was the only one who shuddered at the thought of how angry his ex would be when he found all these things missing. It was hard to make himself believe that he would not get his ass beaten for having these essentials gone when he needed them. He placed the nonsense box to the side.

The rest of the boxes were his actual things.

His clothes and shoes and metro pass and the rare, cheap knick-knacks that he had collected over his four years of living in the city. A simple rusted tin of dried flowers from Fortaine that reminded him of his grandmother had an actual lump forming in his throat. His loved ones rarely gave a fuck about him so it was almost unheard of that a group of strangers would go so far.

Still he could not make himself trusting enough to call attention to himself and thank them. 

The big fucker, Damen, must have noticed him as he stacked the boxes carefully to the side so no one would trip over them. “Did we get everything?”

Even though Damen smiled gently, anyone of that height loomed naturally and Aimeric shrank back into the chair. He felt his heart race as he judged his chances of getting away from the man; they weren’t good. 

“Y-Yeah. I didn’t...expect all of it.” Just a few of his clothes would have been enough. 

“You can count on us.” Damen’s cheek dimpled and Aimeric wondered suddenly if he ever slapped his fiancee open-handed on his smooth, pale cheek. “Any friend of Nik’s is a friend of mine.” Aimeric unclenched himself a little and of course it bit him in the ass. 

Damen clapped a gentle hand on Aimeric’s shoulder, a sign of camaraderie; Damen didn’t seem to know his own strength and Aimeric was still...tender. The touch was such that he choked on his own breath. 

The pain must have shown on his face because Damen withdrew his hand, looking horrified. 

When his breath came back, Aimeric had to say something or he would have screamed. “O-ohhhh  _ no _ !” Even though it was a soft cry, something about it seemed to silence the conversation as Aimeric curled in on himself. “Ohhhhh s-shit!” 

“I-I just...patted his shoulder.” Damen sounded anguished and confused. “I...I didn’t mean to--”

Aimeric felt gentler hands, a nurse’s hands on his upper arms. Nikandros’ voice was calm. “You didn’t know, Damen. Jord, will you get me the pain meds from our bathroom? Breathe, Aimeric. Let it pass.” Those gentle hands cleared the curls from his face and Aimeric heard someone swear softly as his violet face was revealed to their guests.

His lips were trembling so intensely as he held back tears that the scab on his bottom lip split open again and blood dribbled down his chin.

Nikandros wiped it away with his thumb. “Breathe. It will pass.”

He was so calm, so neutral about the mess; he was the only thing keeping Aimeric sane until Jord returned with the pill and a glass of warm water. The two of them effectively shielded him from view as he let tears of pain and embarrassment fall silently onto his lap.

But it passed.


	5. Open Hand or Closed Fist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, friends, Romans, and countrymen!  
> If you liked the chaotic group of last chapter, the fun continues with this chapter. Laurent and Pallas are big fans of fixing problems and making people feel welcome, so Aimeric is screwed haha! Also, I'd like to add that I feel like this friend group is so chill with polyamory; I think Damen and Laurent are the only ones who are exclusively monogamous, cause they don't want to share each other.  
> I have mentioned before on Twitter that I love Russian-style diminutive nicknames and they come out in full force here (3 guesses as to who 'little red Anechka' is haha) so if you don't like them....too bad I guess haha ;)  
> I hope you like this chapter and thank you all so much for your love and support!

**5\. Open Hand or Closed Fist**

Aside from another sincerely heartfelt apology from Damen--which Aimeric accepted just to shut him up--no one made any further comment on the state of Aimeric’s face for the rest of the evening. Everyone was so kind and welcoming, it almost was suspicious. Laurent and Pallas actually went out of their way to get up and sit next him; he was quietly alarmed by their gentle, probing questions.

“Your hair is so lovely.” Laurent said, reaching his hand up as if he might try to stroke the ends, but then he caught himself. It was shocking that someone so beautiful could give an honest compliment without it sounding forced. “When I was young, I wanted curls like yours.”

“It’s a pain in the ass.” Aimeric murmured. “I haven’t had a cut in years…”

“Don’t cut it!” Pallas exclaimed. His curls were similar, though black, oiled to a glossy sheen, and long to his waist. “I have some products you can use to keep them a little more in control. I’ll bring them to you the next time we meet.”

“I--fuck, ok. I guess.” 

It was useless to argue with them. 

“Are you from Marlas originally or somewhere else in Vere? Chastillion or Nesson-Eloy?” Laurent’s aristocratic accent and fine, pale features could only be from Arles. A city full of arrogance.

“Fortaine.”

“I’ve been to Fortaine before.” Laurent smiled and Aimeric saw Damen smile at it from across the room. “I wonder if I know anyone there with relations to you.” 

Aimeric felt the following question like ice in his stomach. “I certainly fucking hope not.” He hoped that none of these people knew the mess that was his nouveau-riche, social climbing family. Or...even worse... Laurent shrugged off his rudeness with practiced ease.

“I’m not one to pry so you can drop your hackles.” There was something about his smile then that had an almost cruel edge to it. Just that single expression alone told Aimeric that he was thoroughly outmatched when it came to this Laurent fellow. Laurent would win any war Aimeric started. 

Pallas seemed sweetly unaware of the power struggle happening next to him.

“Are you in university still?” 

“No.” Aimeric flushed, not wanting to admit that he had dropped out of high school when he’d had his...meltdown. 

Pallas was unfazed. “Where do you work, then?”

“If I worked, I wouldn’t be in this apartment.” Aimeric snapped. He had clearly shaken Pallas but Laurent was again unfazed. “But I have no fucking experience anyway. They’d laugh me out whatever minimum wage shithole I put in for anyway.” The reality of it hit him just as hard as he’d wanted it to hit Pallas and Laurent.

“We can help you out with that.” Laurent waved his hand dismissively as if it would cause Aimeric’s troubles to dissipate. “You have very fine features. We have a friend in the restaurant business who’s always looking for servers or hosts, granted so long as you can keep a civil tongue.”

That would be difficult.

Lazar must have overheard as he walked by to kiss Pallas’ bulging shoulder. “If Halvik hired little red menace, Anechka, then Rika will be no issue at all.” 

“ _Rika_?” Aimeric sputtered.

“I’m from the northeast of Vere, love.” Lazar winked at Aimeric. “Near the Kemptian border. We use little nicknames for the people around us.”

“Renochka.” Laurent raised his hand lazily.

“Pashka.” Pallas blushed as Lazar leaned down to kiss his neck while he said it.

“Jorka is from the northeast too.” Lazar inclined his head to Jord; that would explain ‘Nidya’. “And if you’re going to be around us then...Rika.” Aimeric debated on whether or not he wanted to cease the nickname immediately, but he still had to gauge Lazar and get used to the idea that he might see these people again.

Aside from ‘bitch’, he had not had a genuine nickname in years. 

“R-Rika.” He said carefully, staring at Lazar.

Lazar grinned, clearly tasting victory. It seemed Aimeric was going to lose to Lazar as well. “Rika. Pretty-face, poison-mouthed Rika.” He got up and ducked his head down, kissing Aimeric lightly on an uninjured part of his cheek. It was so gentle, even with the slight rasp of his stubble, so unexpected and in front of his boyfriend as well.

“Don’t _do_ that!” Aimeric hissed, crushing himself back into the chair. “Crazy fucker.” He was beginning to see now how Jord and Nikandros could be considered the more ‘normal’ ones in their friend group.

“He’s ridiculous.” Laurent sighed as the man sauntered back to the kitchen to cause more chaos. “But if any one of us crosses a boundary, just let us know.”

“I don’t--” Aimeric thought of how Pallas could be wallowing in fury and jealousy and he rushed to make amends. “I wasn’t flirting, I swear.” His hands trembled and he tucked them out of sight in his shirtsleeves, but Laurent glanced at him and Aimeric swore that he had seen. 

Pallas smiled at him; clearly he hadn’t noticed the fear. “Rika, my Lazar does online shows for a living. I’ll not be troubled by a kiss on the cheek.” 

It took Aimeric a moment to realize his meaning.

“The fuck is _wrong_ with you people?”

“We love each other.” Laurent shrugged. It was as foreign to Aimeric as the kiss had been, as foreign as Pallas’ lack of jealousy. “And speaking of which, I think I have to go to Damen or he may wither away from neglect.” The man was almost vibrating with joy simply by having Laurent glance in his general direction; Aimeric had never seen a man that was easier to read. “It was nice to talk with you Ri--Aimeric.” He caught himself, clearly not as wildly informal as Lazar...yet. He smiled and it cut Aimeric again how genuinely attractive and kind Laurent was.

“Bye,” was all he could muster. 

Their motley group stayed until almost ten p.m., clearly none of them wanting to leave when the atmosphere was so jovial. Aimeric was in pain again but did not want to remind anyone of his invalid status by asking for another ice pack against his throbbing ribs. The Akielons were already walking on eggshells around him, trying not to look directly at him or his bruises. 

He watched them all from behind his curls. 

Nikandros had his head on Jord’s lean shoulder and Jord was errantly stroking the small lines of his scalp that were visible between the braids. 

Aimeric watched them with a strange mixture of disdain and awe. 

It was like seeing lovers in a film. He didn’t believe that they could be so gentle with one another in front of people and yet...it was hard to ignore what was right in front of him. He hated them and envied them their ease. 

It was clearly a common theme with their group. 

When Laurent laughed, which was often, Damen looked like he had seen heaven itself and Laurent occasionally rested his head on top of Damen’s, his face lost in those wild curls. Lazar could not keep his hands off of Pallas, often whispering ‘Pashka, Pashka’ under his breath until Pallas gave him attention. Kastor waited on Jokaste hand and foot, bringing her things when she so much as sighed and Auguste errantly rubbed her lovely, bare feet. Berenger did not have a lover present but sometimes he glanced at his phone and smiled in a sweet, indulgent way that almost made him look energized and attractive.

And Aimeric was alone, curled up with his bruises and his silent phone. 

He was torn between relief and regret as the group of them got up to leave, the Akielons offering bone-crushing hugs, the Veretians light cheek kisses by way of farewell. 

“No hug for me?” Aimeric asked deadpan as Damen approached him. He blanched and Aimeric felt the cruelty on the tip of his tongue. “Missed a spot if you want to help me out.”

Laurent was unfazed. “Be nice, brat. He’s still getting a handle on Veretian humor.” Laurent kissed the air above his cheeks in spite of his bruises. “Shit! Nidya, give Aimeric my phone number, will you?”

“No.” Nikandros did not even look up from where he was moving empty coffee mugs from the living room to the kitchen.

Laurent narrowed his eyes and Aimeric almost wanted to see the high society ice queen fight the punk nurse. Damen smiled nervously, holding his lover’s hand and Jord sighed audibly. 

“I’ll give it to him, Laurent.”

“Weak.” Nikandros tsked under his breath. 

Lazar and Pallas were next. Lazar actually kissed his cheeks and grinned like the devil. “Be good Rika. We’ll see you soon.” Pallas simply patted the top of Aimeric’s head, figuring it was as safe a spot as any. “It was nice to meet you. I’ll bring you the things for your hair soon.” 

Auguste kissed the air above his cheeks with the same manners of his younger brother, Jokaste smiled at him, thanking him for a most entertaining evening, and Kastor offered an extremely awkward handshake by way of farewell.

Berenger simply nodded as he left; Aimeric, at the moment, liked him the best of the lot.

Jord and Nikandros were melded together in the kitchen, Jord attempting to hook his little finger through Nikandros’ as Nikandros attempted to wash the mugs. “Jord, you bastard.” Jord grinned and Aimeric felt it was a good enough time to turn in for the night.

“I’m going to sleep.” He announced softly, sifting through his boxes to find a sleeping shirt and a clean pair of briefs.

“Do you need anything?” Nikandros asked though he did not even glance Aimeric’s way. “Meds? Water? Bandages?” Aimeric saw the hem of Nikandros’ dark shirt lift slightly even though both of Nikandros’ hands were doing the dishes.

“When you fuck each other, please keep it down.” Aimeric responded sourly.

“No promises.” 

Aimeric silently hoped that all their mugs broke as he shambled back to his room, cold in spite of all the warmth and love that had filled the living room near to bursting.

His phone had a single text that simply read ‘Fine. Be like that. Bitch.’ 

If he was being very honest--and he could in the quiet, dark of ‘his’ room--he much preferred ‘Rika’. 

Spite had always been the greatest motivator for Aimeric. 

His family had money and he had never really been one to respond well to guilting or bribery. Pain and fear had him curb himself but it could never quite motivate him the way spite could. He liked being angry and vengeful, but moreover he liked to be the one to prove other people wrong. 

Things were always looking up when he woke up furious.

The hell he was going to wallow in self-pity and sorrow when that was exactly what they would expect of him. He was still sore getting out of bed but he could walk a little better than before, his hair in a chestnut cloud around his face.

Jord was halfway through a bite of toast when he caught sight of Aimeric and he coughed up a few crumbs.

“Your _hair_ \--”

Aimeric ignored him and the giant hickey peeking out from the collar of his shirt. “Yes, yes, your pillows work wonders. Why are you still here?”

“I don’t have a shift until this evening around 7PM.”

No vigorous lovemaking tonight then. “Good to know. Enough small talk; I need Laurent’s phone number.”

“Nikandros will be...pleased.”

“Joy. I want that fucking job he mentioned yesterday.” Even though it was very likely a minimum wage job, he wanted disposable income before his ex removed him from their once-shared cell phone plan. He hadn’t held a job in over a year and he did not intend to live long on the charity of Jord and Nikandros. 

“I can give you his number but don’t you think you ought to wait until you’ve recovered a little more?” Jord looked chagrined but he was fucked because Aimeric now knew how easy it was to barrel right through him.

“I was about to say the same to you.” Aimeric said, errantly tapping the spot on his own neck where Jord’s hickey was visible. The man flushed scarlet and pulled up the collar of his shirt. 

“Breakfast?” Jord asked, clearly desperate for a change of subject.

Aimeric didn’t answer, instead placing his phone on the counter for Jord to update at his leisure. He went to sift through the boxes he had left in the living room, finding clean clothes before going to take his shower.

In the haze of warm water, he thought of all the things he needed to do.

He would not call his ex. He would follow that punk nurse’s every order so his body would heal in record time. He would get a job and work like a horse. If he had to take a shift every day he would do it. He would get his own phone plan and his own apartment, a fresh start. And he would not call his ex.

Aimeric emerged into the living room as warm and boiled as a noodle, fresh in his clean clothes, but he was still in too much pain to lift his arms and comb his wet curls.

He wanted to snap the thin piece of plastic out of frustration but only the cost of replacing it kept him from following through. It was a small enough hiccup early on to almost have him laughing at himself for daring to hope.

Jord meandered from the kitchen with half a mug full of coffee and a softly concerned expression. “M-May I help? 

“Not unless you know how to properly comb out wet curls.” Aimeric stared intently at Jord’s poker straight hair. 

“I can.”

“Did you take a police development class on that as well?” Aimeric asked with his best imitation of sweetness. Jord shook his head in disbelief though he did not walk away or look angry.

“That mouth on you...it’s a good thing I’m used to Laurent. Sit on the floor, please.”

Though he was not as forceful as Nikandros, it was still close enough to an order that Aimeric obeyed without any further sarcasm. He tensed as Jord sat on the couch behind him, his legs on either side of Aimeric’s shoulders. Though he was slow, he was gentle, sifting through Aimeric’s wet hair and combing the curls one by one.

“My grandmother used to do this for me.” Aimeric said as the familiar numb, tingling feeling spread across his scalp in ripples. Happier memories and sensations.

“That’s so lovely. Would you like to tell me more about her?”

He had not intended it to spark conversation. “Well she’s dead, so thank you for bringing that up.”

“O-oh. Ok.”

Aimeric couldn’t help himself and started to laugh, his shoulders shaking helplessly and ribs aching. “Are you sure you’re Veretian? I feel as though you and Nikandros are in the wrong bodies.” It was hard to believe that someone could so naturally be a doormat. 

The smile was clear in his tired voice. “I am not cruel by nature. Why seek it out?”

Aimeric glanced back, very aware that he sought out cruel responses. It was really his only defense. But Jord was smiling without artifice. Apparently he was genuine and not giving a backhanded compliment and Aimeric almost missed Nikandros’ sharp tongue. 

“Your family did not teach you the art of being a bitch?” It was an important tradition, passed down through Vere’s quick-witted, vulgar generations.

“My family is dead so...thank you for reminding me of that.” Aimeric blanched in horror and it must have shown in his body language because Jord started to laugh. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! My parents and sister are alive and well but now you can see that I am Veretian through and through; I just curb my tongue.”

Aimeric shot Jord a dirty look. “It’s not funny.”

“Neither are these curls, now hold still please so I can finish.”

Aimeric sat still, annoyed that his own ploy had been thrown back at him so effectively, and by the milquetoast detective no less. He opened and closed the aching hand that was wrapped in elastic bandage wrap to keep himself from becoming bored. 

“There. All untangled.”

Jord handed back the plastic comb and stepped back to admire his handiwork. His exhausted face was bright and approving as he surveyed Aimeric’s appearance. Aimeric couldn’t bring himself to thank Jord, instead nodding softly. 

“I put Laurent’s phone number in your contacts so feel free to message him. I know the woman who owns the restaurant he was talking about and I can assure you that it’s not a front for anything illegal.” Aimeric had been thinking that exact thing only a split second before and frowned. “Halvik runs a tight ship.”

“Can’t wait.” 

For the rest of the late morning and early afternoon, Aimeric watched as Jord moved the boxes from the living room to his room and then spent a slow hour unpacking and putting things away. As with most rooms he inhabited, there was no real evidence of personalization or hobbies. The last asshole he had lived with before his most recent ex had been fond of throwing things when he was angry--oddly enough only Aimeric’s belongings warranted being thrown--so he had learned quickly not to become attached to material things. 

He jolted as he heard a knock at the door and found Jord waiting patiently in the hallway.

“I have two questions for you.”

Aimeric was not used to knocking and was already on edge. “What?”

“Do you like Patran curry and what is your favorite flavor of cake?” He ticked the strange questions off on his fingers.

Aimeric narrowed his eyes. “I’ll...eat curry so long as it’s not too spicy.” Typical Veretian he had difficulty with things that were too spicy. He did like sweets though. “I like almond or cherry flavor. Why?”

“No reason,” Jord was unconvincing in his lie as he laughed. “You don’t need to glare like that.”

Aimeric did not lose his glare but he did forget about the abrupt questions until Nikandros came home from work, several plastic bags hanging from his dark forearms as he kicked off his shoes. 

“Nidya, welcome back!”

“Hi love. I brought dinner.” Aimeric could smell the deep, savory spices of Patran curry and his mouth watered. He had never been one to eat much but he had skipped lunch and it had been ages since he’d had the luxury of eating food cooked at a restaurant. He did not hold out hope that Nikandros had wasted money on him though. Nikandros felt his gaze and his mouth twisted in a wry grin. “I got some for you too, brat.”

Aimeric edged over, still unable to say thank you.

“We’ll replace any bandages after Jord leaves for work.” Nikandros was clearly just as hungry as he unpacked the styrofoam cartons and placed them out on the kitchen table. “Oh. And we’ve got this for you as well.”

A white box with two red and gold stripes was placed on the table and Aimeric opened it carefully just in case Nikandros decided he wanted to take the gift back. 

Inside were three slices of ivory-colored cake, the smell of sugar and almond so thick that Aimeric could almost taste it in the air. There were curls of white chocolate on the white icing and a dark red band of jelly through the center of the spongy cake. He remembered Jord’s questions at that exact moment and looked up at the two of them.

“They just so happened to have white chocolate almond with cherry filling.” Nikandros shrugged. “Lucky you.”

“Why?” Aimeric asked. His fingertips trembled against the thin cardboard of the box.

“We need to welcome you here, of course.” Jord said as if it was obvious and Nikandros rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Celebrate a new chapter.” Such a simple gesture.

“Th-thank you.” He whispered. Hopefully the response would come easier in the future.


	6. Rare and Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends!  
> Aimeric is healing up and getting back on his feet thanks to the resident hotties. Today he has to dial back his prickliness so he can get a job. Also, there is a bit of hinting around to Aimeric's tragic past in this chapter so just be aware when it comes time for his very unconventional interview.  
> I normally ramble in these notes but...this is all I've got for today haha! Just hope you like this latest update and know that I appreciate you all ;)

**6\. Rare and Sweet**

The last bandage was removed two and a half weeks after Aimeric had first come to live with Jord and Nikandros and the bruises had faded away to nothingness on his light skin. With the healing came energy and he felt cooped up in the fine apartment, ignoring the barrage of daily texts from his ex that ranged from paragraphs of love to pure vitriol, and trying to find enjoyable things to do that did not cost any money. 

He thought about walking through the Olbos District on occasion but all of his clothes were dark, tattered, and baggy and would likely make him look like a scruffy transient. He watched the streets from the little breakfast nook in the kitchen and watched people live out their lives on the streets below.

And Jord and Nikandros were...pleasant.

He hated to admit it but they were pleasant. They cooked for him and put on movies and music in the evenings they spent together and ignored Aimeric when he scoffed over their open and frequent displays of affection. Jord combed out his wet curls in the mornings he was home and Nikandros pulled off his bandages in a way that didn’t hurt and applied dollops of thick, expensive lotion onto Aimeric’s scabs so they wouldn’t scar. They asked for nothing from him, left him to his own devices when he wished, and quietly put him on their cell phone plan when he awoke one morning to find his plan cancelled.

He still did not completely trust them--especially since they could ruin him again the moment they decided to kick him out--but Aimeric could relax around the two of them now. 

At least Laurent had been working towards getting him gainful employment.

He had said the woman who owned the restaurant was always on the lookout for good-looking servers and hosts and he did not seem the least bit concerned about Aimeric’s lack of documentation.

“Half the servers have a history and the other half are trying to create one.” Laurent had written. “So long as you’re safe, sane, and on the semi-decent side of the law, Halvik won’t give a single shit about seeing your ID or your insurance card. And speaking of that issue: I’ve talked with Auguste and he may be able to access the public records and request a new one for you on your behalf even if we don’t even have a copy of the original.”

Aimeric had been disappointed too many times to hope for a good outcome but Laurent spoke with such confidence, as if he expected things would work out. It was hard not to feel some kind of hope. 

And the first weekend day after his bandages came off, it seemed Nikandros and Jord were confident in him as well.

There was a pounding on his door at half past noon and he sat up, bleary-eyed and immediately furious. He was sure his hair looked like a brushfire around his head and he hoped it made him look more intimidating than ridiculous. He nearly ran into Nikandros’ chest and might have broken his nose against it for all it was straining against his t-shirt.

“Good morn--oh, no, it's the afternoon. Anyway, it’s time to get up. We’ve got shit to do.”

“The fuck--?”

“Aimeric is awake?” Jord sounded appallingly chipper. “Ask him if he wants grapefruit.”

“Choke on the grapefruit,” Aimeric mumbled under his breath, still annoyed at having been woken up. Nikandros’ eyes flashed and he smiled in a way that made Aimeric even more annoyed.

“He said he’d _love_ grapefruit, Jord.” Nikandros called loudly. “No sugar, so it matches his temperament.” Aimeric mimed sarcastic laughing and Nikandros winked at him, completely unrepentant. “Get ready. We’re going to meet Halvik and see if you’ll like working there.” 

Aimeric blanched, fear racing through his body in one icy bolt. He tried to seem nonchalant but his voice cracked. “A-Already?” He wanted to work but being opened up to scrutiny was another matter entirely. 

“You’ll be fine.” Nikandros patted Aimeric’s shoulder. “Just be yourself.”

“ _Really_?”

Nikandros laughed. “Ok, well...maybe don’t hiss things under your breath when you’re annoyed or disagree with something she says. She’s Vaskian so she beats even Laurent when it comes to being a bitch. _Amazing_.” 

“You truly know how to set me at ease.” Aimeric groaned. 

Nikandros smiled down at him and, after a moment’s hesitation, ruffled Aimeric’s wild curls. “You’ll feel better after your shower. Hurry up and I’ll _consider_ letting you use the sugar for your grapefruit.”

The warm water did boil away most of his worries and, when he came out clean and dressed to the breakfast nook, there was a halved grapefruit and the massive jar of sugar waiting for him.

Jord combed out Aimeric’s curls while he ate. “Will that be enough? Do you want anything else to eat?” Nervousness had lost him his appetite and Aimeric nibbled at the grapefruit, refusing everything else that Jord listed. Nikandros frowned slightly; he was of the Akielon disposition in that he could likely eat Jord out of house and home and still eat a half dozen jars of thick Akielon yogurt. 

“Are those the best clothes you own?”

Aimeric nodded, suddenly very self-conscious over his ragged, dark jeans and the navy blue sweater that was still semi-new despite being three sizes too large. 

“I would offer to let you borrow some of my things…” Nikandros’ leg bounced since he could not pace. “But…”

“I think the oversized effect would be the same.” Aimeric pointed out. “Even Jord’s clothes would be baggy on me and they’d have the added benefit of being ugly as well.” Nikandros couldn’t catch himself quickly enough and hiccuped a laugh.

“ _Nidya_!”

“He’s _quick_ , Jord; I can’t help it. We’ll have to get you new clothes.”

Yet another debt to the two of them and Aimeric was about to argue about how he didn’t want or need new clothes from them. “I don’t--”

“Wasn’t a question.” Nikandros didn’t even look up from his phone as he shut Aimeric down. Aimeric wondered if Nikandros’ mother had fucked a Veretian and kept it secret. “You can pay us back over time if it makes you feel better.”

“And obviously we won’t buy an entire designer wardrobe. Just the simple basics.” Jord promised diplomatically.

“ _Obviously_.” Aimeric said pointedly.

Nikandros’ head whipped up. “Jord, take the sugar.”

The joke was on Nikandros because Aimeric couldn’t finish his grapefruit, sugar or no, by the time they were ready to go. His nervousness was back, eating at him from the moment he left the hidden serenity of their townhome. 

It did not get any better when he saw that they were going to the chic and upscale Romarin District. 

If he was too scruffy for the Olbos district then the people here would call the police on him just for breathing the same air. Luckily, he had a member of the police department with him so it wouldn’t take them long to haul him away. Only Nikandros’ gentle hand on the center of his back kept him from bolting away as they walked to the front of a restaurant called ‘ _Stål_ ’.

Even though it looked closed for business--like most nice dinner restaurants would be in mid-afternoon--the door opened for them.

The inside was beautiful. 

Though the outside of the restaurant kept in the sleek, elegant style of the rest of the Romarin district, the inside was the modern equivalent of an ancient Vaskian feast hall. Paneled entirely in wood the color of honey, the ceilings were tall and vaulted with crimson and indigo runes painted on the beams. A massive wreath of dried herbs hung over the door and there were cast iron braziers for fires in the colder evenings. 

Though there were no customers, there was a skeleton crew of staff and chefs inside, preparing for the dinner reservations that would come in a scant few hours. They scarcely glanced at the motley crew of the punk Akielon, the haggard detective, and scruffy Aimeric which made Aimeric think that they were expected. 

“Nikandros! Jord!” Someone called and Aimeric saw a dark, lovely chef lean out of the kitchen and wave to them. Her voice was only slightly tinged with the husky accent of Vask.

“Kashel!” Nikandros grinned back.

“I’ll tell _mor_ you are here! Sit wherever you like.”

“Her mother owns this restaurant?” Aimeric asked as Jord pulled a chair out for him. His Vaskian was not amazing but he could understand some of the basics and hoped that the mother was just as welcoming as her daughter. 

“Along with like two others in the city and at least five in Vask.” Jord said. “She is a real force of nature.”

“Can’t wait for you to meet her.” Nikandros smiled as he rested his elbows on the heavy golden surface of the dining table.

They did not have to wait long. 

The chefs and staff in attendance straightened up to attention, a feeling of fear and respect rippling through the restaurant in an almost tangible wave. 

Halvik was an intimidating woman: tall, dark, muscular, and an expression in her gray-blue eyes that would soften flint. Aimeric was terrified so he steeled himself and assumed a scowl that he hoped would convince her he wasn’t a weak little brat. Like an alley cat snarling at a full-grown leopard.

At least she laughed, amused by his ridiculous bravado, as she took her seat opposite them. “Laurent says you are trouble but that you are also inherently good. Is this true?”

“I…I don’t know. I hope so.” At least Laurent had said ‘good’ and not ‘sweet’; Aimeric could not even begin to pretend that he was sweet. 

“Laurent says you have no documents.”

“Laurent has been saying a lot of fucking things about me, I see.” Aimeric hid his nervousness with his sharp tongue but at least someone found the humor in it. He heard Nikandros cough. 

“Veretians do like to talk but Laurent and his brother are good men. Why don’t you have your documents? It will be more difficult to employ you if you do not have your ID or insurance card.”

Aimeric dug his nails into his palms. His voice was very flat. “I had to leave them at my parent’s house when I...when I left.”

“You ran away?”

“They kicked me out. My father kicked me out.” He tasted bitterness in the back of his throat.

“Did you steal from them?”

“I did not. I am not a thief.”

Halvik nodded, pleased that she wouldn’t have to watch wallets and jewelry with Aimeric around. “And you cannot, absolutely cannot go back to get them? Will your father hurt you?” 

Aimeric felt Nikandros puffing up like an angry hen beside him, Jord measuring his breaths. It was amazing how intense they were for anyone even close to their social circle. “You...could say that. He thinks...he thinks I’m a liar; that I lie about important...things.” He could not say more. Not to a stranger.

Halvik stared at him and he could tell she was too intelligent not to get an inkling of what he meant. Her tone was soft and reassuring. “Are you? Are you a liar?”

Aimeric preferred the fists.

He preferred slaps and kicks and punches to syrupy words and slow, invasive strokes. It was all because he had been a sweet boy. When he was younger he had been sweet as honey and it drew wasps. He liked sharpness because being sweet was dangerous and he broke out into a cold sweat just from remembering all of these sickly things. 

His eyes swam as he kept her gaze and shook his head. “I am not a liar.”

Halvik nodded slightly. “I believe you.”

Aimeric’s breath came out shakily. It was not a phrase he often heard. “Th-thank you.”

Halvik looked him over again and nodded. “You do not look away from my eyes, even though you are very small.” Aimeric was about to say that it was easy for him to appear small when she was almost six feet tall and looked as though she could match Damen in arm wrestling but Nikandros must have sensed his sharp thoughts. A boot gently mashed on Aimeric’s foot and he snapped his mouth closed before his tongue could move. “I can respect that. You may work for me if it pleases you. Though not here. You would work in ‘ _Eld_ ’, my Veretian style restaurant.”

“A-Alright.” Aimeric breathed and he felt a gentle pat on his back, a soft congratulations from Jord.

“The manager of Eld will explain to you the rules in detail but if you show up to work on time and do not attempt to steal then you will keep your job. You start in one week.” She was very good at giving orders and Aimeric could only nod in agreement. “Now we will eat.”

As if she had been listening in, Kashel emerged expertly balancing two trays laden with Vaskian fare, the smell of roasting meat filling the entire hall. 

“We cannot, Halvik.” Nikandros said, purely out of courtesy. He did not even make an attempt to seriously refuse.

“You will eat.” Halvik insisted and her tone garnered no argument. “On the house.”

Aimeric was not one to refuse free food.

“Jord, eat this,” Halvik insisted offering something in a thick broth that smelled both sweet and spicy. “It gives energy for those with powerful lovers. Replenishes the strength.” Aimeric choked before he had even taken a bite and he felt Nikandros shuddering with helpless laughter beside him.

Jord was scarlet. “Thank you...”

One good Vaskian meal and three new basic outfits later and Aimeric was feeling a good deal more than hopeful. It did not hit him that he had a job and an income and a home and new clothes until Nikandros was buying a very good vintage of wine at the bottle shop on their way home.

“Do you prefer red or white?” He asked, cradling four different bottles in his hands.

“I--”

“Just get both, Nidya.” Jord recommended sensibly, his rare Veretian side showing. 

“You don’t--”

“Let’s just skip your complaints because you know I won’t listen to them.” Nikandros said. “I’m not keeping track of the occasional gifts or meals we treat you to. You’ll not get a bill at any point asking for every cent back. If you hate wine then don’t worry: Jord and I will drink it all.”

Aimeric glared at him even though he didn’t look up from the labels. “I like rosé.”

“Both it is.” Nikandros decided. 

Jord added a fifth and sixth bottle to the counter, making it an even two bottles per person. Apparently they were thirsty. “We have to celebrate your entry into the high-end restaurant business. You know we’ll need these, Nidya.”

“I’m in the service industry, at best.” Aimeric scoffed. “I’m starting to think you assholes just want an excuse to drink.”

“ _Please_.” Nikandros made the young man behind the counter all but melt as he smiled at him. “As if we need an excuse.”

Aimeric was lost in the whirlwind of their personalities.

There were many things he found annoying about Jord and Nikandros but he could not count their taste in wine as one of them. They had beautiful crystal glasses and poured Aimeric a very generous amount of white wine, even though it was scarcely sunset outside. His fairly affluent breeding kicked in the moment the glass was close to his face and he breathed in the sweet scent, his throat tightening almost immediately. Just from the smell he could tell it was an excellent bouquet. 

A single sip and he knew he was fucked. 

The wine went down easy and warmth spread through him in a few short gulps. 

“Congratulations Aimeric.” Nikandros savored his first drink a little longer. “Jord can you put on music? Do we have any olives? Or cheese? Can you get napkins for us as well?”

Jord, who had already been walking to the kitchen, stopped to laugh. “Nidya, I only have two hands. What do you want first?”

“ _Cheese_.” Aimeric spoke up before Nikandros could answer incorrectly. 

Nikandros rolled his eyes. “Fine. Cheese first. You had better enjoy this; you cannot order people around at Eld.”

“How do you even know Halvik anyway?”

“Damen.” Nikandros swirled his glass as he watched Jord, creating a pale vortex of wine. “She’s an old friend of his family’s and, as you saw today, her food is fantastic so we like to keep a close relationship. I also like to see her thoroughly fluster Laurent.” His smile was so wicked that Aimeric began to wonder what it was that the beauty had done to deserve Nikandros’ ire. 

Jord returned, a welcome sight with a wooden cutting board laden with cheese, crackers, and olives. “You just like that her and her workers compliment you and Damen.” Aimeric _was_ aware that Vaskian women--and most of the men--liked their lovers stacked and if Jord hadn’t been so good-natured, Aimeric might have suspected he was jealous. “Though I suppose...better you than me. I would find it difficult to move through life being so dangerously attractive.”

“Aren’t you so honored to have me?” Nikandros leaned over, smiling, his braids spilling over one shoulder. Aimeric hated to admit it but he could see the appeal of this punk when his eyes were bright with love and good humor, his pose looking like some statue in in Akielon art gallery. 

“I don’t think I had any choice in the matter.” Jord laughed and kissed Nikandros on the cheek. 

Aimeric popped a chunk of white cheddar in his mouth and scowled at the both of them. “Are the two of you going to fuck on the coffee table or…? Because I can take this charcuterie and be on my way. Give you some privacy.”

“Oh, don’t be sour.” Nikandros drank more wine and smiled at Aimeric this time. “Believe it or not, I can flirt with my lover in my own house.”

“You both keep up the friendly banter so I can drink more.” Jord said, uncorking the first of the reds. “Oh shit! Music!”

Aimeric finished his first glass of wine by the time Jord had set up some soft jazz on the speakers and he could not even set the glass down completely before Nikandros had picked up the bottle and refilled it. For a man of his size, a second glass so quickly wouldn’t make much of a difference but Aimeric was already feeling the effects of one glass. In his experience, things tended to sour if he drank too much too quickly. His hackles were up, in spite of what he knew of Jord and Nikandros. 

“Don’t let me--” He lost a little of his nerve as both Jord and Nikandros looked at him and he looked for a believable lie. “Cut me off before I black out, will you? I don’t want to vomit on your floors.”

“Of course.” Jord sat back down, completely unbothered as he took up his own glass. “Oh _fuck_! Napkins!”

Nikandros’ mouth quirked up for a split second as Jord had to abandon his wine, yet again. When his attention turned back to Aimeric, Aimeric tried not to blanch. Nikandros had the bad habit of seeing right through his lies.

“I swear we’ll get you to bed safe.”

He trusted Nikandros’ word and picked up his wine glass. Thank the gods he had the promise from both of them, because he did not want to stop drinking. 

Jord came back with the stack of napkins and slapped them on the coffee table. “Napkins here and now I’m going to enjoy this wine. If either of you need anything else, then you’re welcome to get it yourself.” 

“Thank you, love.” Nikandros raised his glass to Jord with one hand and plucked an olive with the other. Jord’s smile was helpless in the face of Nikandros’ attention and Aimeric resigned himself to the idea that the price he’d have to pay for the wine was watching the two of them flirt all night.


	7. Calls of Guilty Thrown at Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!  
> Just a head's up, I haven't had time to write recently so there's a good chance that I won't be able to update until the 12th of March. So hopefully this will tide you over until then ;)  
> Aimeric needs a classic 90s teen rom-com makeover and who better to take over than Pallas and Lazar? Also this time around we get to meet the staff of Eld who are an absolute force of nature themselves. I know how much you all liked me writing about food; thank god Aimeric works in a restaurant. All courses are ones from Bouillon Pigalle, which is my favorite restaurant in Paris.  
> Ancel and Aimeric are going to be best friends...in their own Veretian way haha!  
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I'll see in a week or two!

**7\. Calls of Guilty Thrown at Me**

Aimeric had forgotten how much he liked the taste and feeling of being drunk on wine.

He was relaxed and easy with his smiles, the liquor smoothing all of his sharp edges. Four generous glasses and two bathroom trips in, and he was draped across the couch staring at Nikandros and Jord through his curls. When he was this far gone he could see the appeal in them: Nikandros with his chiseled good looks and flawless dark skin, Jord with his tender smiles and elegant fingers, clearing the hair from his eyes.

Aimeric laughed to himself, though the sound echoed in his wine glass.

“What do you laugh at, Rika?” Jord asked. His eyes were hazel fire.

“You’re annoying. So fucking annoying,” Aimeric giggled, “that you’re both good people. Who the hell brings scruffy little strangers into their homes without asking for SEX!” He shouted the last word and found it hilarious.

Nikandros rolled his eyes. “Eat some cheese.”

He missed the cheese board the first time, causing Aimeric to laugh harder, but grabbed a handful the second time around and began pushing chunks into Aimeric’s mouth with his thumb. The wine had affected him to the point where sometimes the cheese was crushed against Aimeric’s cheek a few times before it found his mouth.

“Nidya, you’re so pretty; feed me cheese too.” Jord complained softly and Nikandros smiled back at him.

“No flirting! Ugh, I’ll be sick…” Aimeric mimed vomiting until Nikandros silenced him with a wedge of gouda. He then proceeded to launch himself back to Jord and slap his lover on the ass. It was loud enough that Aimeric knew the cheek would be slightly red.

“ _Ow_ ! Nidya, _fuck_!” 

Nikandros responded by burying his face in the seat of Jord’s jeans. “Tiny ass. I’ll kiss it better, love.” Aimeric rolled his eyes. The two of them were incorrigible and, when drunk, even more clearly in love with one another. 

Jord had forgiven Nikandros for the impromptu spank immediately and was now massaging the base of Nikandros’ head. 

“You really... _like_ each other.” Aimeric said. “Even when you...hit, it’s...gentle.”

“I love him.” Nikandros turned so his cheek rested on Jord’s slim butt. “I won’t beat him.”

“I don’t think I _could_ beat you.” Jord joked, his voice slurred. “I’d break my knuckles on your pect--your tecton--no, your...boobs.” Nikandros laughed at Jord’s inability to remember the word and Aimeric shook with silent laughter as well. “Nidya.”

“You smile so much.” Aimeric was a little melancholy to find that his wine glass was empty. “It’s...nice.”

He sat up to reach for one of the open wine bottles and the world spun. 

His phone buzzed on the table and he was too focused on grabbing a bottle without upending it all over the table that he let Jord grab it and check it.

“Rika, it’s your ex.”

Nothing could soak his good humor up faster and it appeared Nikandros was experiencing something similar. He sat up and stared at the phone like he would try to fight it.

“Is it more ‘fuck you’ or ‘love me’?” Aimeric asked lightly, pouring himself a nearly full glass of red wine. He did not want to hear, he had been having such a good time, but...the self-destructive streak in him was more powerful than the strength of the good wine.

Jord squinted, his hand a little unsteady from trying to keep the phone still. “It says: ‘I miss you beside me. No one can love me like you do. No one knows how to love you like I do.’” 

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Nikandros’ eyes narrowed slightly over the rim of his wine glass.

Aimeric’s face was hot and though his tongue felt twice as heavy as normal, it kept moving against his will. “This fucker talks such a big game...big fucking game for a man who never made me cum.” The word burst out of him with such force and he found it so ridiculous that he started to giggle. “A shit lover. They all were. No one knows how to love me like he does? Please? There are at least,” he swayed as he counted the number of exes he’d had in the city on his fingers, “six others in the city who can love me so ‘skillfully’.” His laugh took on an edge of hysteria as he tipped his wine glass up and downed the entire thing. 

“Rika…”

“There are lots of men who can’t—there’s most likely an emotional or mental block.” The familiar mantra was slurred but it did not bring back the usual shame of when he heard it from past lovers. “I’m the common denominator so--”

“You are drunk, is what you are.” Nikandros set down his wine glass.

“You don’t want to hear me talk more about how shitty I am in bed?” Aimeric asked, collapsing onto the couch cushions. “If you scroll back a little, I’m sure that bastard can enliven--shit!--enlighten you.”

Nikandros blinked a little too quickly as he stood up and Jord reached out a steadying hand, as if he had any chance in the world in keeping Nikandros from falling over. “Shit, I’m at my limit too. Come on, Aimeric.”

Aimeric refused to move or help him in any way but also did not fight as Nikandros slipped his arms underneath Aimeric’s shoulders and knees. True to a giant Akielon and a nurse, he lifted Aimeric without any issue at all, Aimeric’s head lolling helplessly.

He smiled as Nikandros carried him back to his room and put him on his bed. 

“You’re a doctor, Nikandros,” Aimeric mumbled.

“Nurse.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me, right?”

Nikandros tucked the curls away from Aimeric’s eyes so they did not tickle his face while he slept. “Aside from being a Veretian and having all the horrifying qualities that come along with that, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Aimeric’s face was hot and his smile was wide from wine as he curled in on himself. 

After hearing for ages that he was simply not a good lover, it was nice to think that maybe he wasn’t the problem. But...then again, he was drunk off his ass and wasn’t thinking clearly. 

He had thought the two of them were _attractive_ for fuck’s sake. He was too far gone. 

It took quite a bit of pep talk from Jord for Aimeric to feel comfortable going to Eld on his own to meet his new coworkers. He was not used to having free reign to move about the city and he was extremely nervous of the thought of running into one of his exes in public. 

“I’ll be here in the apartment if there’s an emergency. Just call if you feel unsafe.” Jord said soothingly as he combed and tied back Aimeric’s curls. “It’s only three stops from Olbos station.”

“You’ll pedal over with your little bike?”

“You and Nidya with that bike...It’s efficient and environmentally friendly!” He sounded so much like a middle-aged man that Aimeric started laughing, his anxiety pushed aside for a moment. 

“Nikandros probably doesn’t respect any vehicle he can bend with his bare hands.”

It was Jord’s turn to laugh. “ _Anyway,_ you will be fine. It’s not like it’s your first day on the job; you’re just going in to meet everyone. It will take you an hour at most. I can even tell Nidya to pick you up after work.” With his gentle hands, he tied Aimeric’s curls back in a loose ponytail at his nape, clearing most of them from his eyes. “There! You look so lovely with your hair back.”

“I don’t--whatever.” Aimeric did not have the heart to tell him that he would likely undo his hair immediately. He liked being able to hide behind his mess of dark curls so people wouldn’t stare at him. The bruises were gone but sometimes...he swore people knew that they lurked on his muscle and bone.

“Text me when you get there safe, ok?”

Aimeric nodded silently, somewhat pleased to leave the apartment if only to avoid Jord’s persistent care.

His anxiety returned the moment he stepped out alone onto the bright, clean streets and he tried to rush to the metro without looking like he was some kind of petty criminal. At least someone had added him to Nikandros and Jord’s massive friend group chat and he was being bombarded with good luck messages and instructions to say hi to to several people who worked in the restaurant. It was going to be difficult to determine who was who as everyone in the chat was using the diminutive nicknames Lazar and Jord were so fond of. It was going to be added stress to meet his future coworkers while trying to determine who ‘little red Anechka’, ‘sweet Raska’, and ‘Kalya’ were.

The messages drowned out the ones he had been receiving lately from his ex.

He had apparently realized from the radio silence that Aimeric had no intention of running back into his arms, he had begun threatening Aimeric. Jord had insisted he keep the messages in case Aimeric decided he wanted to file a cease and desist or a restraining order. 

All his anxieties were warring for dominance as he exited the metro and found ‘Eld’.

Though just as classy and clean on the outside, the inside decor through the windows looked similar to a bright Veretian bistro. Aimeric balked at the door, too nervous to intrude.

“Are you the new one?”

There was a slim, lovely young Akielon smoking what smelled like virtus at the edge of the alley next to the restaurant. Virtus gave a boost of energy and the pen and paper tucked into his back pocket made Aimeric think that he likely worked at Eld. He also had the most startling almond-shaped blue eyes, set against the brown of his skin. 

“Aimeric.”

“Kallias.” The Akielon said, grinding the stub of his virtus under his heel. “Nice to meet you. Are you going to go inside sometime today, or…?”

“I’m working on it.”

“Well we open at four so try to gather your nerve before then.” Kallias said as he walked past Aimeric to the entrance of Eld. Something about his careless swagger gave Aimeric enough of a confidence boost to follow him in. He also hoped that Kallias’ good looks and coloring would take the attention off of him.

“Rika is here!” Kallias called into the restaurant, ruining Aimeric’s plan immediately. 

“My nickname proceeds me.” He murmured, too exhausted to fight it.

“Lazar is legitimately unstoppable.” Kallias said. “Also a great kisser.”

“You must be Kalya.”

Kallias grinned in a way that could only have been learned from a Veretian as the staff of Eld came out to greet their newest member.

Aimeric curbed his tongue as he was introduced to the two dozen lovely servers and innumerable kitchen staff and the restaurant manager, a Vaskian woman named Hekla. There was an equal mix of Akielons and Veretians and his mind ached from remembering names and faces. _Isander, Talik, Lykaios, Kyra, Lysander_. ‘Sweet Raska’ was revealed to be Erasmus, a gentle freckled Akielon with tousled golden curls who smiled at Aimeric as if he had been waiting his entire life to be introduced.

It was also immediately clear during the introductions who ‘little red Anechka’ was, although his name was Ancel and he was anything but little. Model slim with endless legs and ten thousand freckles, he had to be almost six feet tall in his heels with wavy red hair tied back into a messy bun that must have taken an hour to get so perfect. His pale green eyes raked over Aimeric’s clothes, as if judging their quality, before they snapped up to his face. 

His smile screamed ‘fake customer service’ and Aimeric took note of his beautifully manicured nails and the small diamond on his ring finger. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Berenger and the group chat. I love the whole,” elegant fingers inclined towards Aimeric’s sweater and jeans, “ _grunge_ aesthetic you’ve got going on.”

Aimeric narrowed his eyes. He was getting some catty vibes from little red Anechka and his mouth moved before he could stop himself. 

His made his smile as sweet as he could manage. “And I _love_ whatever box dye you use for your hair.” 

Ancel looked appropriately offended. “It’s _natural,_ actually.”

“Of course it is.” Aimeric used his most patronizing tone. He had a feeling that he and Ancel would get along in a Veretian fashion, exchanging constant insults thinly veiled as compliments. 

“You’re going to fit in great here.” Kallias said. 

Erasmus grabbed both of Aimeric’s hands and turned his wide, excited gaze to Aimeric. It was enough to terrify Aimeric. “Would you like a tour? Kallias and I will give you a tour and then the chefs have offered to cook you a welcome dinner in the kitchen.” His smile was too sweet to provoke argument; Aimeric preferred dealing with Ancel who was glaring at him with barely concealed disdain. “You have time to join us for a late lunch, don’t you?”

“I...yes.” Aimeric whispered, unable to refuse the sweet Akielon. 

“I hear you’re rooming with Nikandros and Jord. You have to tell us everything! Everyone in the restaurant has a crush on either Damen, Nidya, or Kastor, and Jord is so kind to us. He’s offered to escort us home if we work the late shifts.” Erasmus gushed as he gently pulled Aimeric further into the restaurant. His hand was pleasantly warm, just like Nikandros’ hands; maybe it was a trademark of Akielos, that their bodies were blast furnaces. “Come with us, Ancel!”

“I’d rather not.” Ancel said through another one of his fake smiles.

“ _What_ a surprise.” Kallias shook his head slightly.

“But you’re the top server.” There was no guile in Erasmus. He was entirely genuine with his compliment and Ancel straightened with pride. “You can give him so many good pointers.”

Aimeric was no longer quite so nervous to work at Eld. The competitive part of him that had so enjoyed swimming and running in high school wanted to beat Ancel and become the highest tipped server at Eld.

Nothing could motivate him quite like spite.

When Aimeric prepared for his first day of work, he worked hard to look good and set himself apart. 

The late dinner with the staff of Eld had been eye-opening as the servers shamelessly bragged about how they worked their customers for bigger tips. Ancel had picked at one of the courses of sweetbread vol-au-vents and described, without the slightest hint of blush, how he had gone from picking up rich men at casinos as a stripper to meeting Berenger at his shift at the restaurant. Somehow he had managed to convince the man to leave a $150 tip and his phone number. Over lentil and foie-gras cream soup, Kallias and Erasmus--who were dating--talked about being propositioned for a ‘business relationship’ by their wealthy Patran sugar daddy after work one night; now they were given a weekly stipend from him for being his dates at work events and occasionally hanging out at his penthouse apartment, drinking his expensive wine while wearing little more than lingerie and heels. All the servers were similarly flirtatious, swapping their favorite stories and biggest tips over endless courses of Veretian comfort food. 

Aimeric knew he was going to have to pull out every little trick he knew to keep up with such seasoned hustlers and it had to begin with looking good enough to compete.

Pallas had come over at his request several hours before Aimeric’s first shift bringing Lazar--unfortunately--and all of the hair care products he had promised Aimeric at their first meeting. Lazar watched carefully, occasionally commenting on Pallas’ body as Pallas conditioned Aimeric’s hair, oiled it, combed it, and patted it dry. 

“You’re so lovely, Rika.” Pallas gave out compliments with alarming ease and, like Erasmus, Aimeric could tell he was entirely genuine. “We ought to get you some face cream since your skin is so nice.”

“Spending my money before I’ve even made it?” Aimeric asked.

“I’ve heard semen is a natural moisturizer as well.” Lazar offered and laughed as Pallas kicked at the leg of his chair. “That’s why your skin is so smooth, Pashka! That’s your beauty secret.” Pallas rolled his eyes though he could not help his smile over Lazar’s cheekiness.

Somehow Pallas managed to find some B.B. cream which he rubbed onto Aimeric’s face and neck and he also used a little mascara on Aimeric’s eyelashes. After hearing that Lazar did online cam shows, Aimeric was too afraid to ask why the two of them had face cream and makeup so close at hand and kept his mouth shut to avoid any slip of the tongue. Pallas did not seem to mind as he spent his time complimenting Aimeric profusely.

“Oh your skin _shines_ now! What a difference a little moisturizer makes. And you have such nice naturally long lashes; a bit of mascara is all you need to make your eyes pop. Look at him, Lazar; isn’t he lovely?”

“Like a sheep.” Lazar said and Aimeric didn’t know whether or not to be offended.

“You’re fucking weird, Lazar.”

Lazar looked truly touched. “Thank you, Rika. That means a lot to me.”

Only when Pallas was finished pinning back some of Aimeric’s curls so that they wouldn’t fall in his face throughout the evening did he let Aimeric look at his finished appearance.

He almost didn’t recognize himself in the mirror.

The young man in the mirror looked as though he belonged amongst the confident beauties at Eld. His curls were dark, soft, and perfect, half pulled back so that everyone could see the delicate planes of his face. His skin looked as luminous as new china and, with the mascara, his eyes looked enormous and innocent. Aimeric almost balked at how gentle and...pretty the person staring back at him was; surely this was not him, not Aimeric who had been sharpened to a razor point by the cruelties of the world in general.

Only Pallas beaming behind him really made him realize that he was seeing himself.

“Look at you, you’re going to make all the tips in the world.” Lazar said. Aimeric winced as Lazar drew back his hand, as if he was going to strike Aimeric. Instead there was a click of the tongue as Lazar spanked Pallas. “You did a good job, Pashka.”

“I don’t care about that at all.” Aimeric said. “I just want to beat Ancel at hustling for tips and wipe that fake smile off of his freckled face.”

Lazar wheezed with laughter. “Oh _gods_ , I want so badly to see this power struggle. Red Anechka is a terror and he fights dirty.”

“So will I.”

“You Veretians are all trouble.” Pallas sighed. “Well, get your clothes on and let’s go show Jord and Nidya.”

For some reason Aimeric felt nervous at the thought.

Jord and Nikandros had only ever seen him as a bruised, feral brat with a sharp tongue and a tangled brushfire of hair that all but covered his face. He had no idea how they would react to him in his current state. 

The dress code at Eld was remarkably relaxed so long as the outfits in question were clean, stylish, and black, which was all of Aimeric’s new wardrobe. Shoes were another matter entirely, but, after a moment of panic, Lazar cheerfully pointed out that they wore the same size shoe.

“I have some thigh high boots in the storage space of my scooter. Wait here.”

“I--ok…” He almost asked why Lazar had thigh high boots with him and why, of all modes of transportation, it was a scooter that he owned, but he thought better of delving into Lazar’s psyche and just let the man do as he liked.

He appreciated the boots and their small heel, which would be more comfortable to walk in during his shift. “This will also give you some height so you’re not dwarfed by Anechka.” Lazar said as he zipped the boots up Aimeric’s calves. 

“It’s his hair that gets the attention.” Pallas said, linking his giant, beefy arm through Aimeric’s slim one. “Now let’s go show you off.”

Aimeric’s legs were a little shaky from the boots but Pallas was there to steady him as the three of them walked back out into the living room. Jord and Nikandros did not immediately notice their entrance in favor of a fresh pot of coffee but Lazar could always be counted on to cause a scene. 

“Nidya, did you know that Jord likes his men like he likes his coffee?”

Aimeric could practically hear Nikandros’ eyes roll in his head. “Let me guess: strong, dark, and what wakes him up in the mornings?”

“Constantly in need of cream.” Lazar rested his tongue piercing lasciviously against his canine tooth and Nikandros was unable to keep from throwing back his head and laughing. Jord choked on his drink. “We polished Rika up!”

Aimeric was wholly unprepared for their gazes and tried to hide behind curls that had been pinned back. There was no hiding from this.

Both Jord and Nikandros’ eyes got enormous on seeing whatever magical transformation Pallas had worked on Aimeric. Jord broke into a smile first, his normally exhausted face lighting up delight. “You look so classy, Aimeric.”

Nikandros’ smile was smaller but no less genuine. “It’s true.” 

Aimeric felt his face heat at the attention and the compliments, still not used to receiving them without a massive dose of fear. “The fuck are you both staring at?” He asked, though it had no bite.

Nikandros nodded sagely over his coffee cup. “ _There_ he is.”


	8. So Powerfully

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from my mini hiatus and OH GOD do I have a hell of a chapter for you all today! I love Ancel so damn much, by the way...  
> Looking back now I wish I had done like 8 more chapters set in the restaurant with all these wild, lovely young people just to see the kind of shit they get up to. They are also all desperately in love with Nikandros; only Aimeric seems to think that he isn't swayed by that punk's charm ;)  
> Just a heads' up:  
> Keep the tags/trigger warnings in mind for this chapter!

**8\. So Powerfully**

Aimeric liked working at Eld. He liked the warm glamour of the place, the careless money that was thrown about, the easy compliments the customers gave him. He liked his fellow servers and the chefs, liked when Talik or Kallias invited him to take sips of the fine wine the chefs had stashed in the back; he felt like he was glowing with energy after his shift and it was hard to pretend to be surly when he came home to Nikandros and Jord with his feet sore and pockets filled with tips in cash.

Hell, he even liked Ancel, despite their natural rivalry. 

“So simple again today, Aimeric?” His voice was poison honey from where he was stacking clean napkins on one of their service tables. “People are going to think you have no style.” So materialistic, he was quick to notice when people wore the same outfits or jewelry or did their hair in the same style.

“You’re getting your shitty foundation all over those napkins.”

Aimeric said it with so little inflection that Ancel jolted and looked in a panic down at the napkins. When he realized that Aimeric was fucking with him, Ancel looked like he wanted to jam the napkins down Aimeric’s throat. “Bitch.”

“Whore.” Aimeric smiled at him. 

“You both are so energetic.” Kallias responded in his typical deadpan tone. “Arguing before the restaurant even opens.” Both Aimeric and Ancel softened as Erasmus kissed them both hello; it was hard to be angry when the young man was basically a ray of sunlight. “Aimeric, when are Jord and Nikandros going to come in to visit?”

Aimeric grimaced.

If there was anything he hated about the job, it was how everyone who worked there was thirsty as sin for Aimeric’s roommates. Just mentioning their names in passing had everyone salivating and, when Aimeric had mentioned that Jord and Nikandros had carried him before, Isander had pretended to swoon. They did not see that Jord was a foolish, bike-riding doormat or that Nikandros was an annoying, blackmailing punk, no they only saw pedigree and manners, muscles and lively eyes. Aimeric could only curl his lip as they gushed.

“Hopefully never. Nikandros would have me running all over creation, working my ass off.”

“I’d  _ love _ for that man to put me to work.” Lykaios joined the conversation and fanned herself with a small stack of menus. “I don’t know how you can live with them both and not need constant cold showers.”

Aimeric rolled his eyes to hide his terror at the thought. 

Every person he had ever slept with had hurt him. He did not know if he could recover if Jord or Nikandros were cruel to him. He was still so new to this job and these people that he didn’t want to try and explain it to them that he still could not even think of looking at someone with desire. 

He much preferred Ancel’s stares, his jade green eyes narrowed in intense, wicked interest.

Aimeric pushed the conversation from his mind as the dinner rush arrived in force.

He was listening to a pair of older ladies from Patras who had decided to talk about his curls--and how they’d had similar curls in their youth--in lieu of ordering, when one of them motioned to the entrance of the restaurant. “Isn’t that fine young man the one who held the door open for us and took our jackets? Perhaps we should send over a glass of wine for him and his attractive companion.”

Aimeric shook his head softly in disbelief. That someone deserved two expensive glasses of wine for showing such basic common courtesy, but...he was not paid for his opinions. 

He was paid to wait for a good fifteen minutes for the two women to select an appropriate wine.

“Thank you, dear. He’s the sweet Veretian man talking to your redheaded coworker.” Aimeric was momentarily distracted by the size of the ruby on her index finger as she pointed. “Right there.”

Aimeric followed her gaze and was unable to help himself. “Oh, fuck me…”

Seeing Jord and Nikandros where he did not expect them could do that to him.

He gasped and blushed upon realizing he had cursed so openly in front of a customer but the women only tittered, seemingly delighted by his outburst. “Dear, they are both attractive but there is a time and a place for that and it is not in the middle of a crowded restaurant.”

“Oh to be young again.” Her friend giggled from behind a menu. Aimeric wondered if they were distant relatives of Lazar.

Aimeric was too flabbergasted to correct them and simply promised to return with their drinks. His face was still burning as he brought Jord and Nikandros their wine; he could not even do so discreetly because Ancel must have spread the word about their arrival and now their table was swarmed with servers. Ancel smiled sweetly as he approached.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to overdo the blush?” His smile was clear indicator that he had something to do with this.

“I just wanted to cover up any unsightly freckles of mine.” Aimeric said, only marginally pleased when the smile fell slightly. The wine was so good, the glasses so deep that nothing spilled out even when he all but dropped them on the table. “A gift from the bachelorettes at table number three.”

“I  _ told _ you they were flirting with you, Jord.” Nikandros said bumping his head gently against Erasmus’ arm.

“I’ll take the free wine if you want; you didn’t earn it.” Jord pointed out before he took a sip. “Gods, this is good. Which one of you is our actual server?” Kallias was the lucky one and accepted the customary Veretian cheek kisses from Jord. “How is Torveld treating you and sweet Raska?”

Aimeric left, not wanting to hear Kallias talk about how well he and Erasmus were treated by their sugar daddy. He was, by all accounts, unbearably gentle to the both of them. He hated that he became awkward and and irritable around talk of sweet love but at least he could distract himself by considering his vengeance on Ancel. 

He had hoped that Jord and Nikandros would eat and leave by the time his shift was over but they were still talking and drinking with Hekla by the time Eld was closing for the evening. By virtue of being Halvik’s friend, there were two very good bottles of wine and a small bottle of unlabeled hakesh on the table. 

“Am I going to have to call you a cab?”

Nikandros smiled up at him. “Ancel said you were going to carry us back to the apartment.”

“I can carry you.” Aimeric lied easily. “But those nice Patran ladies offered to let Jord go home with them.” Nikandros narrowed his eyes as Jord began wheezing with laughter. “Did Ancel tell you to come here?”

“How’d you guess?” Jord asked. “I also thought Nidya deserved a night out.”

“Aww, love. You spoil me.” 

“I am just here to make sure my servers don’t spend their whole shift here at this table flirting.” Hekla said, pouring herself a generous shot of hakesh. “Though you both are not near as troublesome as Lazar. I have thought of banning him several times…”

“I’d think Damen would be worse for distractions.” Nikandros laughed. “I have seen people literally crash their cars while staring.”

“Any flirts would have fearsome competition.” Jord pointed out. “Laurent would drag them into the alleys by their hair.”

Though they laughed, Aimeric found it difficult to breathe.

He was fairly certain he was the only one present who knew what it was like to be dragged around by his hair. His scalp and hands tingled and he wanted to go to the relative safety of their townhome immediately. He turned towards the entrance, hoping that he was quick enough to avoid Nikandros’ hawk eyes.

“I’m going home before you two pass out on the floor.”

“Jord, let’s go.” Nikandros suggested immediately. 

“No payment needed.” Hekla said waving the offer away before Jord could even reach for his wallet. “Just leave a good amount for Kallias--Jord! If you take out that card, I will have you thrown out.”

Nikandros laughed looking back. “So cheap! Hekla, if you do this, I’ll have to demand another date from him.”

Jord caught up to him, an arm slipping easily around Nikandros’ waist. “ _ Tragic _ .”

The servers and chefs who were closing out the restaurant stopped whatever they were doing to give their best flirtatious smiles and almost completely ignore Aimeric in favor of Jord and Nikandros. Ancel was kind enough to wink and blow Aimeric a kiss as he left; the red bitch had won but Aimeric would get back at him sometime.

The night was warm and pleasant around him and he felt a hand ruffle his curls into disarray. 

“Feel better now?” Jord asked as Nikandros withdrew his hand.

“I have close to two hundred in tips, of course I feel better. Why did you two come here anyway? Did Ancel call you?”

“How’d you guess? Anyway we might as well have a nice date and walk you home.” Nikandros stretched his bare arms above his head and Aimeric could see the curve of every muscle, like a diagram of musculature in an art book. 

“You didn’t drive? Or take the metro?”

“Didn’t bring my bike either.” Jord said. “Nidya’s fine behind wouldn’t fit in the basket.” He smiled as Nikandros burst out laughing. “It’s only a half an hour walk from here to the apartment anyway.”

Aimeric was never fond of crowds, and the streets near Eld were full of them, but he felt safe sandwiched between his two housemates. 

Aimeric’s stomach growled loudly as they passed a popular crepe stand and, while Jord was laughing softly at how noisy Aimeric’s stomach was, Nikandros instinctively reached in his back pocket for his wallet. Aimeric seized with irrational fear and irritation.

“I--we have food at home! I can wait a little longer and you don’t need to fucking pay for me! I have money!” He just didn’t want to spend it on a crepe, even though they smelled so fucking good. It was a luxury he couldn’t afford. “You’ve already bought me so mu--I don’t want to be in de-- _ Nikandros _ !” Nikandros was ignoring him, cash already in his hand. “I have to save money for rent.”

Nikandros looked back at him like he was insane. “Who said anything about paying rent? My family owns our building outright; I’d not charge you rent and besides Jord gave Kallias a tip so I’ll buy crepes. Jord, what fillings do you want?”

“You can stay as long as you want so you can get some savings--oh! We should open a bank account for you once Auguste gets your ID situation in hand.”

“ _ Jord _ !”

“Sorry, Nidya. Um, give me the one with mushroom, cheese, and spinach.”

“Aimeric?”

Aimeric threw up his hands; it was pointless to argue with either of them. Plus the free rent and a buckwheat crepe with cheese, onion, and ham were too good to pass up. His irritation was small but persistent as they finally arrived home.

“Why do you listen to Ancel but not to me?” He asked Jord as Nikandros went through the house, flipping on lights.

Jord smiled over at him, a little sheepish. “Ah well...he tricked us. Said some customers were giving you...trouble. Nidya was going to call down hellfire if he went alone and so I suggested we both come over in case you needed anything. Wouldn’t be the first time things got interesting in Halvik’s restaurant.”

“T-There was...never any customer that was giving me trouble.” Aimeric thought back. There had been flirtatious and annoying customers in the past but never anything to warrant an escort home.

Jord scratched at his hair. “He’s a tricky one, that Anechka. Berenger never stood a chance. And...we wanted you to be safe. No harm, no foul.” 

Aimeric could not think of a response, his irritation gone. 

It was hard to be so irritable and defensive when they were genuinely good men.

Three and a half weeks into his job at Eld, and Aimeric had not figured out something equally appropriate to annoy Ancel with. He had thought to contact Berenger and flirt with him profusely if he arrived at the restaurant but it sounded like a lot of work and the thought of pretending to flirt was abhorrent to him. He would keep picking at the redhead until he found other weaknesses.

One revealed itself immediately when Aimeric was taking a break between shifts on a Friday evening. 

He was looking for Kallias, whose break was ending, and found Ancel texting in the kitchen near the alley door, a moisturizing pore strip on his nose. “Ancel, thank god!” Those jade eyes darted up to see who was calling him and started to roll when it registered Aimeric. “I see you got that nose job you so desperately needed.”

“Don’t you have to be a little bitch somewhere else?” 

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Where’s Kallias?”

“Kalya’s outside smoking a little virtus. Don’t hurry back.”

Aimeric needed no further invitation, dipping out into the alley where it was cool and quiet and many of the servers and chefs took their breaks. Kallias was leaning against the brick wall of the opposite building, his fine face illuminated in the orange-red glow of his favorite energizer. 

“Oh Rika! Am I back on already? Here. Do you want the last of this? There’s about half left.”

Aimeric accepted the half-smoked stick with a smile. He liked Kallias, if not for his easy confidence, then for his tendency to share without a second thought. Wine, virtus, money, Kallias shared what he had without a second thought. “Thanks, K-Kalya.” The nicknames were still a work in progress.

“Enjoy! I’m back into the fray.”

Aimeric took a long drag and stared up at the deep violet of the night sky. He had been alone or with only one person for company for so long, he was surprised that being by himself could bring comfort. But being around so many extroverted people was draining; he liked the occasional snatches of peace on his breaks. The virtus filled his lungs with a fresh, revitalizing feeling, like breathing in cold air or a mouthful of mint. 

He released a lazy cloud of it into the air and watched it dissipate into the sky. He registered no danger.

The hit across his face was so powerful and unexpected that he was unable to catch himself as he fell to the ground. His palm and elbow skinned against the asphalt and he yelped as hot cinders from the virtus fell onto his bare skin. He could not recover before the person who had punched him leveled a strong kick straight into his stomach. 

Aimeric screamed from the pain and another kick ensued. His breath came out in a sharp rattle and he felt pain in his side like a nail had been jabbed into his flank. 

Whoever was attacking him leveled one more kick, but Aimeric’s body had learned, curling around his stomach so that the boot connected to his shin. His next scream was watery as his attacker grabbed an enormous handful of his curls and hoisted him to his feet. Though his scalp was on fire, it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing back onto the pavement. 

The one he feared the most, the irate face of his ex filled his vision, and Aimeric’s body seized with fear. He was clearly apoplectic with rage, possibly a little drunk, and his free hand was curled into a fist in preparation for the beating of a lifetime. It was a sight that Aimeric had not missed, nor had he ever wanted to see again. 

Adrenaline rushed through Aimeric, pushing pain to the back of his mind as he recognized the danger. 

“You--”

Aimeric summoned all the spit and mucus and blood in the back of his throat and spat it into his ex’s right eye. The man howled in fury and Aimeric realized his ex had made the mistake of not breaking his arms first and foremost.

Aimeric hauled back his right arm and cracked his open palm across the man’s cheek. His other hand scratched long gouges into the hand that was yanking his hair and he fell on his knees to the ground as he was released. 

His ribs were on fire as he tried to scramble to his feet and reach the kitchen door. Some of the chefs were big and intimidating and if he could just get to the kitchen door then he would be safe. But his body was so fucking slow.

He screamed again as a body collided with his back and his ankle twisted painfully. 

A strong hand clamped around his throat and squeezed as his ex flipped him over on his back. 

Yelling was his only hope of finding help and the sound was like the far off echoes of a creature in distress as punches rained down on his face and chest. He hoped that the sound of them was audible over the din of customers and music and kitchenware in Eld or that whoever was next on break also wanted to pop outside for a little while for some fresh air. Just so long as it was not Erasmus. Aimeric would never want to subject the sweet boy to his ex’s fury. 

Over the sound of his screams, his ex was yelling incoherently at him.

“You bitch! You fucking bitch, running around town with those two assholes right in front of me?” Aimeric thought of all the bars and restaurants he, Nikandros, and Jord had passed and wondered where his ex had seen them. If he had ever craved Nikandros and Jord’s company, it was now. “Ignoring my calls and texts? Fuck you, you uppity bitch! You cheating on me? On  _ me _ ? No one cheats on me,” Aimeric scratched whatever flesh he could dig into but it only increased the force of the punches, “I’ll teach you, you bitch! You  _ fucking bitch _ !”

The familiar taste of blood was filling his mouth and he smelled the salt-iron smell as blood ran from his nose down his chin. He couldn’t breathe and was coming to the terrifying realization that no one was going to come help him. The entirety of his ex boyfriend’s weight was digging into his torso in two painful points

Hands closed over his throat and squeezed hard, harder than they ever had before and black spots filled his vision. 

His fingernails dug grooves into flesh but the grip did not lessen. 

As his hands lost strength, Aimeric considered for the first time that he might actually be killed in this alley. The stream of vile filth continued to echo around him and if he had been any stronger, he might have cried for being such a fool, for expecting that his life would have ever gone happily.

_ Air _ .

His vision was hazy, speckled with white light as his lungs filled with oxygen. Every part of him was throbbing with pain and blood was running from at least four spots on him. Though being able to breathe was a relief, every breath rattled something inside of him, the feeling of being stabbed pulsing near his ribcage.

He had forgotten how much he hated having the shit kicked out of him. 

There was a sharp crack--the sound of heavy metal colliding with something solid--followed by the sizzling sound of meat in oil. There was an animal scream of ungodly pain and the smell of burning flesh and hair filled the air of the alley. In response was another metallic hit and Aimeric felt someone crumple beside him.

When he had gotten enough air to turn his head, he saw fire.

Of all people, he had not expected Ancel to come to the rescue.

Strands of Ancel’s long red hair had come out of his bun and were flowing around his beautiful, furious face in filaments of ember. His nostrils were flared from intensity and his pale eyes were wide and crazed. He was standing over Aimeric with his hands wrapped in the thick white drying towels Eld chefs used in the kitchen, protecting his hands from the red-hot cast iron skillet he was wielding like a battleaxe. Drops of oil fell from the pan and sizzled angrily on the pavement.

That must have hurt worse than hell, to be hit by that pan and Aimeric might have smiled--had he been able--at the thought of his ex receiving two generous blows and likely second-degree burns for his trouble.

His cheeks ached too much for smiles.

“Ah...a...n…” was all Aimeric could manage of Ancel’s name. It was more blood than breath. 

It seemed to break Ancel out of his rage and the skillet fell to the ground. Hopefully it wasn’t dented. “Oh gods. Oh gods!  _ Aimeric _ ! Oh, f-fuck!” He trembled, for a moment unsure of what to do, but--if his much bragged about past was any indication--he was nothing if not used to chaos. There was the sound of stiletto heels sprinting across the pavement and a door flying open, rebounding against the solid wall of the restaurant. “ _ FUCKING SOMEBODY, SOMEBODY GET OUT HERE AND HELP US! OH, GODS! CALL FOR HELP! _ ” His beloved, stylish clothes were forgotten as Ancel skidded on his knees back to Aimeric. Trembling fingertips searched for an unwounded spot to soothe and found none; he pulled them away so he did not fumble his phone as he called for further help. “ _ Berya _ !” He sounded on the verge of tears and the person on the other end of the phone was rightfully panicked, “Oh Berya, come quick! Call help; it’s  _ Aimeric _ ! He’s hurt bad!”

More shouting from the entrance to the restaurant kitchen and Aimeric had had enough. He closed his eyes and hoped that when he woke, this hell would be over and done with. 


	9. I Want It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who almost forgot to update because they fell asleep at 5:30 PM???  
> Immediate cliffhanger relief here, ft. a very sexy and angry Nikandros and the worst hospital visitors in all of Akielos. I sincerely love Lazar so much, you all must be getting some idea by now haha!  
> Also shoutout to the leaps and bounds Aimeric has taken. He started off staggering to a 24 hour clinic on his own and now... <3  
> Anyway, thank you all so much for all your sweet comments! I really enjoy them so much and I hope you like this chapter!

**9\. I Want It**

Someone was rubbing gentle circles on Aimeric’s palms. So gentle, it was one of the only parts of his body that he could feel; he could also feel his lungs expanding and contracting although it was a less pleasant experience.

His eyes opened very slowly to a room he did not recognize and the most massive bouquet of roses he had ever seen in his life. It smelled of roses in the room--a very nice hospital room--and Aimeric knew he had been drugged to the gills on something because he felt as though he was coming down from floating in midair. There was pain, as constant and pulsing as his heartbeat, just below the blanket of medication.

“Rika.”

He turned his head to the side and saw Jord sitting beside him.

He looked exhausted, his five o'clock shadow a little more pronounced than usual, shadows dark under his eyes and clothes rumpled, but he smiled at Aimeric. It was Jord who was rubbing his palms, sliding cool, medicated lotion onto his hands and massaging it into the healing scabs on Aimeric’s palms.

“Jord.” His tongue felt as though it was made of cotton. “Jord...what--?”

“You’re in the hospital, Rika. You’re ‘all fucked up’, as Ancel so delicately put it. Do you remember?”

It came back to him in snatches and his hands shook violently in Jord’s, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he remembered how he was almost killed outside of Eld. How his ex had come after him and Ancel, fiery red Anechka, had defended him with a frying pan of all things. But now his ex knew where he worked, he could find Aimeric again and finish what he started. Aimeric felt like he was choking on his breath and Jord’s lovely hazel eyes grew wide with concern.

“You’re safe, you’re safe,” He rubbed his thumb soothingly against Aimeric’s fingers and used his other hand to clear the curls from Aimeric’s face. “You’re in the hospital, we’re not leaving you alone. You’re alive and you’re safe, I swear.”

“I have no health insurance card.” 

“It’s not important. We know the man who owns this hospital. Just rest, Rika.” His gentle hands and utter confidence, the sweet way he called Aimeric ‘Rika’ was enough to calm him down. “You don’t have to worry about anything. You’ve been heavily medicated for the past three days but...more rest could never hurt.”

Even drugged within an inch of his life, Aimeric was utterly incapable of resting easy. 

Everything that happened and would happen as a result of being beaten moved through his mind in insidious waves. “I’ll lose my job.” His stomach was sick at the thought of losing his income so early, especially since he liked working for Eld. 

“Hekla has seen worse, I assure you. They’ll wait for you. Now rest, please I  _ beg _ you.” Jord smiled in disbelief as though he could not believe Aimeric was such a pain so soon after waking up. 

“Where is Nikandros?” Aimeric hoped his voice did not sound as weak as he thought it did. There was something about Nikandros’ warm, annoying, confidence that was somehow reassuring.

“He’s out... _ handling _ something.” 

Jord was a terrible fucking liar as he avoided Aimeric’s eyes, his words coming slowly. Nikandros loved to meddle and Aimeric could think of only one reason why the man wouldn’t be with Jord in a hospital, a place where he could feel confident knowing what was going on.

Aimeric jerked his hands back and placed them protectively over his throat. He could feel the tender bruises there the moment he touched the skin of his neck. “H-he escaped? Is he...free?”

His eyes fixed on the door, praying it was locked.

Some very strange and foreign emotion passed over Jord’s face before he could catch himself and school his expression to serenity. “Don’t worry, you’re safe, I promise, and we’ve checked you in here under a false name. Your ex was released on bail.” Aimeric’s expression must have been truly alarming because Jord clasped both of his hands and spoke very quickly. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. He’s not going to come here. If those Akielons are as good as their word, he’s not going anywhere quickly, the fucker.” 

“What do you mean?” Aimeric felt as he had in the first days of leaving his ex. He was terrified, his eyes constantly darting to the door of the hospital room as if he ex would come bursting through the room to finish what he started. 

All the progress of weeks of hope and positivity had vanished in a single night.

“When we...when the both of us got to Eld and we saw what happened,” though it was rare, Aimeric was finally able to place the mix of emotions that Jord was barely keeping in: fury, regret, relief, hatred, “I had to keep Nidya from doing something terrible in front of all those witnesses; thank god Damen and Kastor were there to hold him back or things might have been...really ugly.”

Aimeric could see it in his mind’s eye, the two of them arriving to chaos outside the restaurant and seeing Aimeric in a mess on the ground. Nikandros, already feisty, must have been absolutely rabid. 

Gods forbid his ex was still there and conscious.

“I’ve never...Nidya was so angry that when he heard your ex posted bail, he, Kastor, Damen, and Pallas went over to your old apartment to...pay him a visit and have a conversation with him.” Remembering the sheer size of the four of them, it was hard not to feel some illicit glee at the thought of his ex facing off against them in the confined space of his tiny apartment. “He’s not going to come near you again because he’s going to be leaving the city the moment he’s out of prison. Nidya is going to make sure of it.”

Even so, the fear was still too fresh and Aimeric yelped as he curled up on himself.

Jord was clearly distraught. He liked to be able to fix things and this was not a situation that was easily fixed. “ _ Careful _ . Be careful with yourself. H-He broke your  _ ribs _ .” That explained the pain when he breathed. “Try--try not to move too much.” Aimeric eased himself back onto the pillows, but his eyes kept flicking to the closed hospital door.

“I feel gross.” Aimeric complained softly as Jord continued to rub lotion onto his healing wounds. “How long was I out again?”

“Three days. If you feel sweaty I can call in a nurse and they can help you wash.” Aimeric grimaced at the thought of being so filthy but he also abhorred the thought of being touched by some stranger when he was all but bashed to pieces. “Or--there is a cloth--I can wipe down your arms and back if you like. You can be a little selfish.”

Aimeric thought it was a dangerous thing for Jord to offer: giving Aimeric carte-blanche to be a brat. 

But he stayed quiet and obedient as Jord helped him out of the papery shirt the hospital had provided. It was painful to even remove his shirt and Jord paused every time Aimeric winced or made any noise of distress. He could not bear to look down at his body.

Jord did not make any comment on the state of Aimeric’s upper body but wetted a cloth with warm water. His hands, so gentle when combing out Aimeric’s curls, were equally gentle when cleaning Aimeric’s arms, neck, and the bare parts of his chest and stomach. He dabbed at Aimeric’s face, almost unable to avoid the medley of bruises and cuts across his cheeks and forehead. When Aimeric leaned forward so the warm cloth could be applied to his back, his stomach hurt so badly that he could have screamed from the pain, but Jord held him steady across his collar, allowing Aimeric to dig his fingernails into the meat of Jord’s forearm. 

There was a surprising amount of strength in his wiry body. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” The apologies spilled from Aimeric as Jord helped him lay back and dislodged the fingernails from his arms without even flinching. He ground his palms into his eyes so he did not have to see Jord dab at the cuts with the wet towel. He was sure when it was wrung out that the water would be a hazy pink from the blood.

“No worse than trying to bathe a cat.”

“I didn’t mean for things to turn out like this.” Aimeric whispered. His selfishness manifested in honesty and he felt Jord’s cool hand clearing the wayward curls from his forehead. “I really thought that…” He really thought he had turned his life around.

“It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault.”

Even though his hair must have been filthy, Jord ran his hands through the curls until Aimeric was relaxed in the hospital bed. He felt as though he could fall asleep to the feeling and now understood why Nikandros liked having his scalp stroked by Jord. 

His eyes were almost closed when the door to his hospital room slid open, and even though Aimeric had heard Jord’s sincere promise that his ex boyfriend was not going to come anywhere near him again, he still shrank back against his bed in terror. His body ached in protest and Jord looked over his shoulder, his hand darting to his hip. 

“Aimeric.”

Dressed all in black, like a member of the special ops, Nikandros was coiled tight, tense and radiating energy. His braids were hanging loose, his bottom lip split, and his clenched knuckles cross-hatched with fresh bloody scratches that were still angry and red. The military past was clear on Nikandros for how well violence suited him. Despite how he annoyed the hell out of Aimeric on a regular basis, Aimeric would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t relieved to see the man.

He took a few deep breaths before crossing the room to kiss Jord deep on the mouth. Jord had to grip the side of the bed to keep from buckling under Nikandros’ passion. 

“Nidya, tell me you didn’t do anything rash.”

“Only Damen’s crazy fucking strength and my love for you kept me from beating that bastard to death. Assault, my ass, it should be attempted murder.” His intense gaze turned to Aimeric next and Aimeric trembled in spite of himself as Nikandros reached out and cupped his cheeks. His fingers were warm and light on Aimeric’s cheeks and neck. “Oh,  _ Aimeric _ …”

His voice was filled with emotion that Aimeric closed his eyes to avoid. Jord was calm and relaxing but Nikandros was filled with fire and emotion, which was a thousand times harder to handle. “Please...don’t.” 

His Akielon was so swift that Aimeric could not even hope to understand. Nikandros gently pressed his forehead against Aimeric’s and switched to Veretian, his braids pooling on the bed. “I should have put him in the hospital again. Damn him.”

“A-Again?”

“Ancel.” Jord released one of Aimeric’s hands so Nikandros could take it. “I took his statement myself and I think Berenger has a newfound respect for that redheaded menace. A minor concussion and some serious burns. He also had some deep scratches along his face and arms.”

Nikandros’ exhale was audible, his face etched in fury. 

He was terrifying when he was angry and Aimeric’s terror of angry men came back with a vengeance. He pulled back a little from Nikandros and, of course, the man noticed. Nikandros took a deep breath to compose himself and pushed his rage down. He smiled, though it clearly took a lot of effort.

“I’m just...glad you’re safe.”

Nikandros squeezed his hand softly and Aimeric relaxed again, the heat of Nikandros’ hand liquefying him. “How long will I have to stay in the hospital?” He hoped it wasn’t long.

“A few more days. They’re letting you out early since I can take care of you at the apartment.”

“You should have seen him debating with the doctor in charge.” Jord chuckled. “I thought the man would run to the hills after seeing the state Nidya was in. This was right after we had gotten you checked in so...emotions were running high.” Nikandros did not refute it as he fiddled with some of the heavy, silver rings on his fingers. There was blood drying on some of them and Aimeric shuddered.

“I don’t know if I can stand more sponge baths.” Aimeric murmured, though he wasn’t sure how he’d shower properly either.

“We’ll deal with that after the storm passes.” Nikandros said glancing towards the door. “And by that, I mean we’re expecting guests.”

It happened as if on cue. Aimeric yelped, jolting as the door was pulled open again, and Nikandros was quick to react, cradling Aimeric so he didn’t pitch forward. Hopefully whoever was visiting was important because Nikandros’ dark eyes flashed murder. He had already admitted to being annoyed over not being able to kill one man; a second beating might have slaked his bloodlust. 

It was Lazar, grinning widely as he carried in a half dozen helium balloons, all proclaiming ‘It’s a Boy’, Pallas, Laurent, and Damen following in disbelief in his wake. 

“Rika! You’re a vision. I brought you these to brighten up your room.”

“If you wanted to get me a gift you should have just stayed home.” Aimeric replied, unimpressed by the balloons and hiding embarrassment that people would see him in this state.

The man kissed Jord’s cheek before snatching the paper report clipped to the base of Aimeric’s bed. He pretended to read it, “Nidya, did you see this chart? Rika has come down with a terminal case of something called ‘being a little bitch’. Apparently it’s incurable.” Nikandros snatched it from his hands as Damen tried unsuccessfully not to laugh.

Laurent elbowed his lover and presented a much more welcome gift of about two dozen different cold-pressed juices in an elegant white box. “Hello, Rika. I’d hoped our next meeting wouldn’t be under circumstances like these.” He was so effortlessly elegant, so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at him. No doubt if someone laid hands on Laurent, the fool would be buried in concrete by the end of the day. “I see your coworkers have tried to brighten things up.” 

He indicated to the frothy bouquets of flowers that were resting on most of the available flat surfaces throughout the room. Most of them were those expensive, perfect roses that all seemed to be the same shade and would likely stay fresh for weeks.

Pallas went to the mountainous pile of crimson roses Aimeric had seen on first waking up. “These ones are from Berenger and Ancel.” Of course they’d send the ones to match Ancel’s hair. “Lavender is from Halvik and Hekla and the yellow ones are from Erasmus and Kallias.”

“I bet those are from Torveld.” Damen corrected, referring to Erasmus and Kallias’ very generous sugar daddy. “I saw a similar arrangement in the gift shop downstairs.”

“Torveld owns this hospital.” Jord explained to Aimeric.

“Must be nice to be rich.”

Despite the chaos reigning in the room, it was nice to have so many people there to distract him. His pain was pushed to the back of his mind as Lazar withdrew plastic containers of alcoholic gelatin shots and avoided Nikandros’ withering gaze. “ _ What? _ They sell something similar in the cafeteria. These ones just happen to have a little more vodka.”

“Can never go wrong with more vodka.” Damen agreed, the plastic cups looking like a doll toy in his hands. Laurent watched intently as Damen threw his head back and swallowed the entire shot. 

Nikandros looked as though he was going to protest as Aimeric accepted a lemon-flavored gelatin shot, but Aimeric made his eyes very wide, hoping the sorrowful look would override the man’s nursing instinct. “Please? My face hurts a lot…” Nikandros rolled his eyes but did not protest as Aimeric swallowed the gelatin and immediately accepted a second from Lazar.

“I knew you were a tough one.” Lazar said appreciatively. “Once you’re out of this hospital, I’m going to buy you a proper drink.”

“I am worried about what might happen if I drink with you.” Aimeric said, even less at ease when everyone else nodded, clearly remembering something heinous. He wondered how many of them had drunkenly guest starred on one of Lazar’s cam shows.

“If you terrorize him, I’ll kick your ass.” Nikandros said with no inflection, though, with his bloody knuckles, there was some genuine menace.

“I would  _ relish _ any part of you near my ass, Nidya.” 

Jord looked like he was going to say something but he was swiftly interrupted by the door banging open again and another enormous group of people piling in. For being such a swanky hospital, they certainly were lax with their guest policies, but it made sense when Aimeric saw Erasmus and Kallias leading them in. 

Most of the serving staff from Eld had come to pay him a visit, Berenger close behind them bearing a half dozen cardboard containers of food to put in the miniature fridge in his room. The cacophony was ungodly as they saw Aimeric was awake and got an eyeful the attractive bunch gathered around Aimeric’s bed. It was like a flock of birds had been let loose in his room.

“Hospital food is so disgusting!” Lysander complained without helping Berenger with the fridge. “The chefs made you some of your favorites.”

“I offered to get you some  _ good _ drugs, but I figured your sexy nurse would frown on that.” Nikandros did frown at the wild child Talik as she kissed Laurent’s cheeks. “See? He’s no fun at all.”

“He’s just come down off of the drugs and we’ve already had alcohol; this is a hospital not a night club.” Nikandros sighed. “Fuck, Lazar how many shots do you have in that little bag of secrets?”

“Hand me a strawberry one, will you?” Damen asked as Lazar withdrew another container. “They taste like Laurent’s body wash.” Laurent blushed furiously as the liquor-lovers of Eld clamored around Lazar. Although the atmosphere was not exactly conducive to healing, it was fun to have so many people around.

Erasmus did not seem to want a drink and was the first to Aimeric’s side, tearing up as he offered the gentlest of hugs. “I’m so glad you’re safe…”

“I can’t die yet.” Aimeric patted his curls, “I have to beat Ancel and become the top server at Eld.” Erasmus gave a watery laugh, squeezing him a tiny bit tighter and Aimeric did not complain when it ached.

“In your  _ dreams _ .” Ancel appeared with a lime gelatin shot and rolled his eyes but he also looked bashful, a serious blush spreading across his freckled cheeks. “You’re never going to top me, you black and blue bitch.”

“I’ll just ask Berenger his secret. For topping you, I mean.” Lazar laughed in approval at Aimeric’s quick sex joke and Ancel elbowed Jord out of the way so he could sit by Aimeric’s bedside. When no one was looking, Ancel’s slim, well-manicured hand slipped into Aimeric’s palm, holding it firmly. Aimeric felt bumps on the fine, soft skin and saw small, healing burns, like droplets of red-pink paint against the red-brown of Aimeric’s scabbed palms.  _ Battle scars _ . 

“Thank you,” he whispered, when things were particularly raucous. 

“Shut up Rika.” Ancel murmured in return, his smile soft and friendly. 

It was late by the time the massive group of friends and well-wishers trickled out of the hospital room, leaving Jord, Nikandros, and Aimeric alone. When Nikandros stood, Aimeric could tell he was ready to get down to business, if not from his expression then by the way he rolled up his sleeves to the elbow.

“Alright Aimeric, put your arms around my neck.”

Aimeric was drinking one of the juices Laurent bought him and balked. “Why? Are you going to smuggle me out of here?”

“We’re going to give you a proper bath. This room has the facilities and--don’t give me that look. Just trust me.” Aimeric recalled how Isander had pretended to swoon, thinking of being carried by Nikandros, and wondered if it lived up to the hype. Nikandros picked him up as if he weighed nothing, so skillfully that Aimeric didn’t even feel pain as he was lifted from the bed. “Do you want Jord to wait outside?”

Aimeric thought of how gentle Jord’s hands were as they combed his curls. “No...he can…” It was too shameful to ask completely but Jord didn’t seem to mind.

The massive, padded bath had a door in the side that Jord opened like a valet and Nikandros put Aimeric inside. The next part was going to be trickier. Aimeric curled up a bit remembering that he could not bathe with his clothes on and that neither of them had seen the scars below his hips. 

As Jord tested the water temperature with the detachable faucet, Nikandros helped Aimeric with his shirt, hesitating before he reached for the waistband of the pants. He didn’t seem surprised when Aimeric grasped his wrists with all his strength.

“D-Don’t...be mad...ok?”

Nikandros blinked. “Unless you’re hiding my wallet in your pants, I won’t be mad.” 

Aimeric lost the nerve to continue. He wasn’t worried Nikandros was going to be angry with him, it was more of a general concern. He held his breath as Nikandros helped him out of his pants and he was naked in front of his housemates for the very first time. And Nikandros noticed everything.

He clearly noticed the crop scars in a latticework on the back of Aimeric’s legs and buttocks and Aimeric noticed one of the cuts on Nikandros’ knuckles crack open when he clenched his fist. 

“He wasn’t the worst of my boyfriends.” The rope marks around his wrists had faded but some things did not go away.

Jord’s expression was carefully blank as he ran his hands under the water. “Nidya, take your rings off. You’ll hurt your fingers.” When Nikandros did not move, Jord moved over and kissed his lover’s shoulder, his elegant hands tugging at the silver on Nikandros’ fingers. 

“I’m going to tear this town apart,” Nikandros said, “Where’s the fucking soap?”

“You’re so professional.” Aimeric tried to lighten the mood in the only way he knew how: sarcasm. “It’s a wonder they don’t hire you at this hospital.”

The water was perfectly warm as it filled the tub and Nikandros accepted the detachable faucet, running the stream silently over Aimeric’s scalp. It was unusual that he was so silent, not rising to Aimeric’s baiting, and Aimeric might have been scared if Jord wasn’t so calm. Nikandros’ hands were warm and gentle in the oily mess of his hair. 

“I found the fucking soap.” Jord said. “And some fucking shampoo and conditioner.”

Nikandros was still angry but Jord knew how to appeal to his good humor; Nikandros spritzed Jord in the head the moment he was close enough and Aimeric laughed even though it hurt his ribs. He closed his eyes as the dirt and blood was washed away by light hands; Jord even hummed a little, perhaps trying to lighten Nikandros’ mood. To Nikandros’ credit, he did not show his anger aside from using a little more force in his fingers to massage the shampoo and conditioner into Aimeric’s scalp. It felt nice until he hit a bruise and Aimeric yelped.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry, I’m…” he trailed off, one soapy hand cupping Aimeric’s cheek. 

Aimeric leaned into his warm hand. “You’ve both done so much. You don’t...need to apologize.” He had friends, he had a home and money, he was protected, and it was more than he had ever hoped for. 

Perhaps that was why the most recent beating seemed to hurt so badly: he was used to soft touches, tender hands that wiped him clean with soft towels. 

Aimeric did not even question when Nikandros stretched out on the tiny couch in the room, his legs dangling over the end, while Jord set up shop on one of the armchairs. They were going to stay with him overnight. It was the most care anyone had ever shown him and he slept easy.

They’d keep him safe. 


	10. It’s A Crime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I've been terrible about writing recently so...while it may not affect me now, there may be some time in the future where I take a week or two off of updating. Also, the chapter count has changed, likely to the surprise of absolutely no one. I think every fic I've ever written has had the chapter count change.  
> I can kind of feel like a lot of you will be annoyed with Aimeric this chapter. It seems counterintuitive what he does, after everything he's been through but...he's still learning; boy needs a therapist but someone else will have to step in for now.  
> Also I like to imagine the Vaskian as a Scandinavian/Saami type nation (thanks to vikings and my great love of runes and woad) so shout out to the one bit of Swedish I learned. Dude is a creep, but I made up for it with LAURENT <3   
> I love you all; stay healthy and enjoy!

**10\. It’s A Crime**

The text messages from Aimeric’s ex stopped abruptly during his stay in the hospital and, from what hints he had heard from Laurent and Damen’s conversation, the man’s hands would be in mitten-like bandages for at least half a year. The Akielon military men around him were not even in the general vicinity of fucking around. Aimeric was still on edge around them, even sweet Pallas, knowing their capability for violence.

But with him, everyone was so gentle and supportive. 

Someone visited him daily and Jord and Nikandros stayed over every night until he was discharged. Jord dutifully massaged lotion on every one of Aimeric’s wounds so, for the first time, he did not have any scars; Nikandros replaced his bandages with careful, practiced hands and did not rise to Aimeric’s baiting near as often as usual. With the both of them absorbing his every selfishness, Aimeric felt himself softening, bit by bit.

He could not be sharp with them when Nikandros helped him bathe and Jord brushed his hair and helped him dress. They cooked for him and changed his bandages, massaged lotion into his healing wounds and basically waited on him hand and foot in a way that no one had since Aimeric was a child and, even then, only when he was very sick.

He slept so soundly that he sometimes woke up back in his bed or with his head on Nikandros or Jord’s lap with no memory of having been moved. Their touches were too gentle to stir him unless they were errantly playing with his hair and encountered a snarl of curls.

“Sorry, sorry.” It was Nikandros who apologized as Aimeric whimpered in his half-asleep state. “Your hair is lush but my god it tangles easily. You can keep sleeping if you’re tired.” Aimeric was pleased that the gentle hands remained in his hair.

It was...every way he had ever wanted to be loved and he became conflicted as he recovered.

Nikandros and Jord touched him easily, were kind to him without thought and Aimeric found that he was never able to fully recover the cruel sharpness he had first had when he met them. Whatever terror and pain his ex had brought, he had also completely changed the relationship between Jord, Nikandros, and Aimeric. Maybe it was trust.

He knew they had fought for him, the first people to be violent in his defense, and now...well, at the very least he trusted them implicitly.

It was alarming to him then that, as he recovered, he began to mistake his trust in them for attraction.

It was hard when he hadn’t been touched gently in so long, when they touched his hair and carried him and held him. When he saw Nikandros and Jord kiss each other and do little favors for each other. It made him... _ want _ .

After a while, Aimeric was unable to ignore the niggling need he felt for deeper touches and more intimate attention and he did something that he knew was a poor decision when he downloaded a dating app. 

His photos pulled plenty of interest and he had no shortage of people interested in him but...it was hard not to compare them to Jord and Nikandros and find them lacking in every aspect.

He could not keep it secret for long, what with how nosy both his roommates were. Unsurprisingly, neither one of them seemed all too pleased when Aimeric announced he was going on a date with someone he had been chatting with over the app. 

“I don’t like it.” Nikandros said folding his arms across his chest. 

“I’m shocked.”

“Guys on those apps don’t go in looking for a relationship.” Nikandros insisted, looking to Jord for an assist. “I’m... _ concerned _ .”

He had no right to be and Aimeric was about to tell him so when Jord did interject. “I agree with him, Rika. I’m worried that any man you meet on there might push you past what you want.” Aimeric hated how understanding and sensible Jord sounded but he could not be angry with the man. “I just...don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Aimeric could understand their concern. 

With his record there was a very good chance he’d find some other abusive asshole. But he had an empty, gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, just above his crotch, and a restlessness that only seemed to grow worse when Nikandros meandered over to lean his chin against the top of Jord’s head. 

There was a yawning, unhealthy void in Aimeric and had been carved into him to try and fill it, even though his ribs were still healing. It was a helpless spiral.

“Maybe I’m not in it for a relationship.” Aimeric lied.

Nikandros looked like he was going to argue but Jord squeezed his hand. “You’re an adult and you can do as you like. Just...if you do, please let us know. And if you want us to come get you ever, we will. We’ll drop everything.”

It made Aimeric’s heart skip a beat but he knew their kindness was only that. Nothing more.

His first date a few evenings later was named Krister, a bulky half Vaskian with a honey blond beard and tattoos, and Aimeric’s hackles were up the moment Krister smiled at him. 

One beefy hand went immediately to the back of Aimeric’s neck, holding his head in place so he could not refuse the greeting cheek kisses. There was something... _ overpowering _ about him and Aimeric curled on himself accordingly. “Aimeric, yeah? You’re cute. Little  _ goding _ , aren’t you?” Aimeric recognized Vaskian and swore he had heard the word before in ‘Eld’ but he could not remember what it meant. “Let’s go in and we’ll get you a drink.”

Aimeric instantly regretted not eating before his date as it seemed the place Krister had chosen for their date would have little more than finger foods and any alcohol would hit him faster. His ass had scarcely hit the barstool seat when a shot of tequila was placed in front of him and Krister was already toasting him, watching as Aimeric swallowed it dutifully. His throat burned.

Two more shots and another mixed drink were pushed onto him as they exchanged small talk about their interests and professions--though Aimeric did not give Krister the specific name of his workplace--and Aimeric was beginning to feel so loose and relaxed that his reflexes grew lax. He could not duck away in time and merely flinched as Krister cleared the curls from his forehead to get a better look at the healing scar just above Aimeric’s eyebrow.

“You fall down, love?”

Oh, if only he knew. Aimeric almost wanted to laugh, remembering how that was his excuse when he first met Nikandros so many months ago. “Got in a fight with my ex.” He admitted, the alcohol lessening his shame.

“A spitfire! I like that,” Krister grinned, clearly undeterred by the fact that the ‘fight’ was so intense it had resulted in a scar. “You’re scrappy,  _ goding _ ?” And then, softer, “You like it rough?”

“I-I-” Aimeric stuttered, feeling his face heat up. Krister laughed at his expression and dropped the subject for the time being, but Aimeric felt as though he had already given too much away. Another drink appeared in front of him and he took his phone from his pocket, remembering Jord and Nikandros’ promise to pick him up if he needed it.

He was wholly unsurprised when the implicit topic of sex reared up again, later in the date. Only Krister was now being a little more overt.

“How about we head back to your place and have some food there? Hang out.” It seemed an innocent enough suggestion, save the possessive hand on the center of Aimeric’s thigh and his mouth was dry.

“I...I can’t. My roommates need some notice before I bring someone home.”

He sounded too nervous, the lie coming out stilted. He dreaded Nikandros and Jord’s disapproval at seeing his date. But Krister wasn’t at all deterred. “They’re so strict? Do they order you around? It’s alright,  _ goding _ , we can always go back to my place. It’s only three blocks from here.” 

How convenient.

Aimeric’s tongue twisted around itself as he tried to think of a reasonable excuse. If he allowed it, he’d end up naked in the man’s apartment, tied to the bed or something equally embarrassing. He simply wasn’t ready for it but something about Krister’s personality made it hard for him to say ‘no’. He had been trained not to, after all. 

His instincts buzzed; Jord and Nikandros were right. He wasn’t ready. He was scared.  _ This was dangerous _ .

Another drink was set in front of him--a double--and Aimeric debated if he should contact Nikandros or Jord. “Cheers, Aimeric.”

“Darling.” Before Aimeric could take a sip of the drink, he felt someone close behind him.

Krister stopped speaking, his mouth gaping a little with addlepated disbelief as he stared at whoever was standing directly behind Aimeric. Aimeric felt a slim hand on his waist and his heart seized at the unfamiliar touch. He wished desperately for Jord or Nikandros as he turned to face the possibility of one of his terrible ex boyfriends. 

It was not. None of his exes were so breathtakingly beautiful.

Only Laurent’s face--his wide, perfect blue eyes, his elegant features, lithe body, and lips like wet fruit--could knock a man dumb simply by existing nearby. He smiled down at Aimeric and Aimeric legitimately forgot to breathe until Laurent leaned down and pressed light greeting kisses on his cheeks. “Rika. So good to see you here. Who’s your friend?”

Krister seemed incapable of speech at the moment so Aimeric tried unsuccessfully to take over. “Laurent...he’s--I’m...on a date.”

It seemed ridiculous to admit it when things were going so poorly but Laurent smiled and half the bar took notice. He sat down without being invited, setting his martini glass down to no complaint from anyone nearby. “I see. I have a favor to ask then,” he stirred his drink slowly with one finger and a lock of golden hair fell out from behind his ear and rested against his cheek, “would you mind cutting your date a little short tonight? I wanted to see Aimeric.”

He turned the full force of his beautiful blue gaze on Krister, who scrambled to obey as if Laurent had cracked a whip at his backside. He scarcely spared a word to Aimeric on his way out and Aimeric had the distinct feeling that Krister’s next sex fantasy would involve soft blonde hair and a cultured Veretian accent. Laurent watched him go from underneath his long eyelashes.

“Vere doesn’t have coincidences.” Aimeric murmured the familiar adage as Laurent turned back to him. “Did Jord and Nikandros send you to check up on me?” He’d never admit that he was glad for their meddling. He was half drunk and he had not liked the idea of Krister’s plan to go back to his place for more drinks.

“No, Vere does not.” Laurent smiled, lifting the drink to his lips. “He was no good anyway. I could see in the way he looked at you, the way he bought your drinks. He would... _ push _ you.”

“Speaking of pushing, where’s your lover? He let you come here?” Aimeric could understand why Damen might not have been invited on this little venture. He’d likely get in a bar fight if anyone looked at Laurent wrong.

“At home. Or maybe the gym? In any case, I hardly need his permission to go places. He may be foolish at times but he’s not fool enough to think he can tell me what I can and can’t do.” Laurent’s smile was so sweet, so indulgent while talking of Damen that Aimeric felt the familiar pinprick of envy in his chest. 

“What are you drinking?”

“Water. I like keeping my wits around me when I’m not surrounded by people I trust.” He set the glass down with a soft clink and his gaze became serious, a little icy. “What are you doing, Aimeric? Why are you here? Are you unhappy? Are you lonely?”

Aimeric hated him in a flash of hot, white anger. “Easy for you to say! You have  _ everything _ . You’re good-looking and intelligent, you have a handsome, caring lover and a good group of friends. What the hell do you think you know about me?”

Laurent smiled, resting his cheek on his palm as his eyes shot blue sparks. “Oh, look at Aimeric who thinks he knows so much; who thinks because he’s the only one hurting that no one else around him has ever felt any pain or hardship.” Aimeric felt his face get hot as he blushed at the accusation. “Let me tell you, that it’s  _ you _ who doesn’t know anything about me or what I’ve done to get to where I am now. I fight for everything I care about and my face looking this way does not mean I’ve had things easy.”

“Did your father kick you out into the street? Tell you never to come back? All while your mother and brother just...let it happen? Call you a disgrace and liar for...telling the truth about someone who happened to be wealthy and powerful?” He snapped his mouth shut to keep from spilling any other information.

Laurent blinked, still annoyingly calm. “It certainly would be a wild coincidence if these exact things happened to me as well. And pain should never be a competition.”

“You seem awfully empathetic.” Aimeric was used to Jord’s white shock and Nikandros’ red anger when it came to his sob stories. Laurent’s calm frustrated him for a reason he couldn’t explain.

“You make it hard to be. And besides, when we heard you were in such a mess, Auguste and I looked up on you and your family in Fortaine; I wondered if our families knew each other. You know  _ him _ , don’t you?” Laurent said the name and it swallowed Aimeric like a black hole, too-warm hands like phantom scars on his skin. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think until a real hand took his and squeezed him, pulling him back to sentience. 

“I don’t...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Laurent was looking at him, the vestiges of righteous anger gone, replaced with the preternatural calm of a man who knew he’d had the upper hand all along. “You’re beautiful, you’re intelligent, with a sharp ass tongue, and have a mostly shitty family. We’re more alike than you think. So,” the hand that squeezed his was gentle, “what are you going to do? Are you going to go after your date? Are going to go back to that life, because I guarantee that’s all he’ll offer you.”

“I can see why Nikandros thinks you’re a bitch.”

“Funny. I was about to say the same thing to you.” Laurent smiled as if he considered it a compliment. “And speaking of Nidya...if you’re so desperate for human companionship, you ought to just ask Nidya and Jord to embrace you.”

Aimeric had been in the midst of a drink and choked almost immediately. Laurent watched him with a feline smile, waiting patiently for him to catch his breath.

“As if they’d do such a thing!” Aimeric hissed, immediately defensive. “You said it yourself: Nikandros thinks I’m a bitch and I doubt Jord’s opinion is much higher.”

Laurent leveled him with a look that told him he was clearly being an idiot. It was too frightening to consider. “We’re Veretians; being a massive pain in the ass is a highly desirable trait. And you didn’t  _ see _ them. That night you were hurt, they were both out of their minds. When Berya called them to come to the restaurant, Jord was about to fight a team of paramedics to get to you; they would have both  _ killed _ your ex in front of about a hundred witnesses if Hekla, Damen, and Kastor hadn’t been there.” There was deadly sincerity in his voice as he looked down at his martini glass filled with water. “I’ve seen Damen lose his cool but...not Nidya. He’s...never been like that before. Not since I’ve known him anyway. He gets angry but always keeps his head. But not this time. I--we had Pallas and Damen go along with him so he wouldn’t...” Laurent trailed off but the implication was clear. “I’ve never seen Nidya like that.”

And it was Aimeric, Aimeric in trouble and in pain, that had them in that state.

A small part of him that hadn’t been crushed to dust beneath his cynicism felt elated at the thought of someone liking him so much. But the feeling didn’t last long.

Aimeric bit his lower lip, fiddling his thumbs so he could avoid looking at Laurent and saying something he regretted. “They’re… they’re dating  _ each other _ , for god’s sake.”

“There’s no judgement if that’s what you’re worried about. Lazar and Pallas would open their bed to just about anyone who asked, Raska and Kayla drag Torveld around by the nose; hell, my brother sleeps with Kastor and Jokaste all the time. It’s not as though these things are taboo in our friend group. Or maybe it’s just that Akielons and Veretians are naturally slutty in their own ways.”

He made it sound so easy, so sensible with his angelic face, his steel confidence, and whip-quick intellect; Aimeric had no doubt that Laurent could saunter into any relationship and find open arms and plenty of room. But...

Aimeric had seen Jord and Nikandros curled around each other, the way they looked at each other. There did not seem to be room for anyone else.

And even if there had been room, Aimeric could not shake the feeling that hugged him tighter than his shadow. He didn't want to admit it aloud and show Laurent this weakness but he was sure he couldn't hide it from Laurent. He seemed worse than Nikandros for how perceptive he was.

Aimeric could not help but feel that...that he was not worthy of Jord or Nikandros, much less the both of them. 

Good men with good lives, polished and clean and loving and happy. And Aimeric a match in a flower field. They would hate him after a while, just like everyone else, he would ruin everything somehow. 

Out of habit, he shook his head slightly so that spirals of dark curls obscured his expressions. Laurent frowned slightly and used his cool palm to clear the hair away. His skin was so beautiful and smooth, not a scar in sight.

“You’re fine Aimeric...” His thumb brushed the tiny white scar just above Aimeric’s left eyebrow. “You shouldn’t hide. They wouldn’t let you live in their house and run to your rescue and beat the shit out of a man for hurting you if they truly disliked you. They wouldn’t have arranged this little ‘coincidence’ if they thought so lightly of you.” 

“Why are you so nice but also such an unrepentant bitch?” Aimeric whispered. “It makes it hard for me to hate you.” It was like being friends with a rosebush.

Laurent smiled. “Frustrating, isn’t it? Now, finish your drink and let’s get the hell out of here. I’ll drive you home.”

Aimeric obliged, knocking back the vodka with practice. He wobbled a bit as he stood up and Laurent steadied him with one hand.

Laurent had somehow managed to score a parking place almost in front of the bar and Aimeric was surprised to see a simple, black sedan that lit up with excitement--almost like Damen--when Laurent approached. "What?"

"I expected you to have some sleek luxury car that would cost more than most homes. Or a motorcycle at least."

"Damen's the one with the motorcycle. It's..." As he curled his hair behind his ear, Aimeric saw that it was bright red. "It suits him more than me."

"Don't be weird."

He kept any further snark to himself as Laurent opened the passenger door and Aimeric was able to slide into the fine leather seat of the car. Laurent kept his car in fantastic condition and, as he tossed his cell phone into the center console, he saw that Laurent's screen was populated with messages from Damen, Jord, and an emoji of someone flipping up their middle finger. He was fairly certain that Nikandros was the lucky recipient of such a nickname.

Aimeric tried not to be happy, resting his head against the cool windowpane as Laurent started the car and screeched off towards the Olbos district.

Like any proper Veretian, he drove like someone was chasing him.

They skidded to halt, almost diagonally in front of Nikandros and Jord’s townhouse, in record time. Laurent looked up at the warmly lit windows with an evil grin toying at his lips, the expression like those priceless Veretian paintings of fallen angels. “I bet they’ll pretend to be as relaxed as if they haven’t a care in the world. Too bad Jord is a terrible actor. Maybe I should go up and make Nidya squirm...”

Aimeric checked his phone. “Are you sure Damen can live without you much longer?”

The wickedness slipped, replaced by a bolt of blushing adoration. “Who would have guessed that you’d have a sensible thought after so much alcohol?”

“Go see if your lover can bang the brattiness out of you.”

“Ha ha, get out of my car.”

Aimeric obliged, his legs a little steadier since he was no longer being pumped full of alcohol. He felt a pinprick of fondness as Laurent waved at him from the front seat. Leaning back, he whispered so no one else could hear him aside from Laurent. “Thanks for everything...Renochka.”

Laurent’s smile was blinding. “You’re welcome, Rika.”

Aimeric felt a soft golden glow in his chest as he walked back up to the apartment. It intensified as he stepped inside and saw that neither one of his roommates were very good at pretending they weren’t nervous. He caught Nikandros in mid-pace, Jord meticulously folding and organizing a massive pile of socks and underwear, a forgotten cup of coffee at his elbow. They both smiled at him, the intensity gone from their eyes at his arrival.

Aimeric shook his head. He couldn’t be mad at them when relief was so clear on their faces.

“I’m home.”

He deleted the app later that night.


	11. Fight and Fury’s Fiery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Final Fantasy 7 remake has come out and I'm a hot mess about it so if any of you feel the same way I do, please come cry with me in my inbox. But here is an update for you all after my inability to function last week haha!  
> Aimeric has...changed a little bit ;) He's a little softer and after all the hell I put him through, I thought I'd give him some intense happiness.   
> Also the staff of Eld and Jord/Nik's friend group 1000% have a betting ring going over who is going to crack first to confess their feelings and when it is going to happen. They're incorrigible haha! Enjoy dear friends!

**11\. Fight and Fury’s Fiery**

Aimeric was still half asleep at the breakfast nook when Jord brought him a latte. The night before at Eld had been exhausting, people arriving in droves, and Aimeric had been running back and forth until the bones of his feet started to ache. He made a noise of contentment in his chest as he smelled the milky coffee and felt Jord’s hand rub his cheek. Though Jord was still learning, his lattes were getting better by day. Aimeric drank them, even when they were shit.

Even though he was exhausted, his chest reacted when Nikandros entered the living area, as always, burning with energy. Seeing him was like breathing in flame and Aimeric couldn’t help but reciprocate as Nikandros smiled at him. 

“Rika, there’s lavender salts in the hall closet if you want to soak your feet today.” Aimeric looked down at his coffee as Nikandros strode over to kiss Jord. For some reason...it still bothered him. “Also, Jord, love, we need to discuss the anniversary plans.” 

Aimeric twisted his lips in dismay, the coffee tasting a little bitter.

He thought of lovers’ anniversaries and how they would likely go on some expensive date for dinner, rent a hotel room and exchange heartfelt gifts, before having passionate sex until dawn. Or, at least that was how he imagined it would be. His former lovers had never been ones to celebrate anniversaries.

Even so, Aimeric would be left to his own devices and it hurt him for some reason.

He was glad his hair hadn’t yet been tamed because he was not sure if his disappointment would show on his face. It took him a great deal of effort to make his tone light and unaffected. “How many years have the two of you been together?”

“Five years?” Nikandros said. “I’ve lost count, to be honest. And besides, it wasn’t a very spectacular beginning.”

“Nidya came into the precinct and told me that he was taking me to dinner after my shift. I distinctly remember trying to explain why he was too good for me and somehow it ended with him kissing me.” Aimeric nodded; he would have expected nothing less. “But this isn’t  _ our _ anniversary. It’s been a little over half a year since you’ve come to live with us. We thought we ought to celebrate.”

Aimeric looked up a little too quickly, feeling himself blush as he met Jord’s delighted hazel gaze. 

Nikandros shrugged. “You know how much we love an excuse to drink.”

“You want to--with me?” Aimeric was shocked at the turn of events, jealousy and disappointment turning to elation so quickly that it almost caused him physical pain. “Really?”

“Is there anything you wanted to do?” Jord asked kindly. “Anywhere you’d like to go?”

“If you can’t think of anything, we’ll be forced to ask your coworkers for suggestions.” Nikandros said it lightly, but Aimeric knew a threat when he heard one. “Likely only Erasmus though. I don’t want to end up in some strip club where one of them used to work.”

“I think you’d look great in a strip club, Nidya.” Jord offered over a sip of his coffee. 

Aimeric ignored their easy flirtation, the way Nikandros narrowed his eyes but threatened to smile. His heart was racing at the thought of all the things he had wanted to do in the city but had been unable to do because he hadn’t had enough money or his exes wouldn’t let him out of the house. He was vaguely aware of Nikandros and Jord bantering over top of his head when the desired location came to him in a single bolt that burst out of him and interrupted all conversation.

“The beach!” 

Marlas City was only a twenty minute’s drive from one of the most beautiful beaches in the nation and Aimeric had always wanted to go. It also helped that it was midsummer and the heat made him want to plunge into the local public fountains.

He flushed as both Jord and Nikandros looked at him at the same time, clearly surprised by his choice. It did sound like something a child would choose and he blushed accordingly. The stuttering explanations came next. 

“I-I used to be on the swim team in high school a-and I haven’t been to the ocean in ages... A lot of my exes didn’t want to go because it was too far or b-because they didn’t want me wearing swimming trunks in public.” He thought of how pale he was and some of the ugly scars that remained and wondered if he had made a mistake. “O-or we could go...somewhere else.” 

Nikandros sighed before leaning forward and ruffling Aimeric’s hair until he saw stars. 

“What was that for?” Aimeric asked when Nikandros released his head. 

“Shaking the foolish thoughts out of your head.”

“We’ll have to go out and get you a new swimsuit.” Jord said kindly.

“I wonder if Vannes is ok with having sand tracked through her carpets.” Nikandros shrugged. “Oh well, she invited us so she can live with the consequences of that.” Aimeric didn’t even think to ask who Vannes was, he was so excited that he’d be seeing the ocean again. 

As Jord went to get more coffee, he paused on the way back to gather up Aimeric’s curls and tie them out of his eyes. “We can’t do the exact day of, but can you request the first Friday of next month off?”

“I can ask.” He’d need someone to cover his shift and he knew his coworkers kept...exciting schedules. They had a massive group chat where they asked each other favors, invited each other to parties and clubs, and shared photos of their outfits and lovers like some kind of massive bragging ring. The most recent photos were courtesy of Ancel, who had wanted to show off roughly eight different sets of lingerie that Berenger had brought him from Arles.

‘Will someone switch shifts with me on the 3rd?’ He typed, and then--because he was so excited--foolishly added on, ‘Jord and Nikandros are taking me to the beach.’ 

He regretted it a second later, remembering only too late how rabid the lot of them were for Jord and Nikandros. It had only gotten worse when they had inevitably gotten word of Nikandros and his friends going after Aimeric’s ex and the way the two of them had cared for him after his stay in the hospital. Most of them were convinced Aimeric was secretly dating the two of them, despite his insistent denial. He was fairly certain Ancel was spearheading the campaign, the little red bitch. 

His phone all but came to life in his hands, buzzing constantly with the barrage of messages he was getting. 

‘A date?????’

‘It’s a date.’

‘He’s going on a date with them!!!!’

It was some variation of those three messages repeated endlessly as the entire waitstaff of Eld collectively lost their minds. He was sure he was bright red, his cheeks incredibly warm, and he was glad that Jord and Nikandros weren’t paying too close attention to him.

‘It’s not a date,’ he began to type, though...he could not bring himself to send it. There was something so very final about the words. He ended up deleting the message and sending in its place, ‘Oh my god, shut up.’

I wouldn’t help the rumor mill but...Aimeric still wanted to be a little selfish. 

The swimsuit they bought him was green--cactus green, though distinctly less prickly--and though he was overly conscious of showing so much skin in public, the thought of swimming was too good to pass up. He was almost silent, practically vibrating with excitement, as Jord drove them out of the main part of the city and into the scenic vacation strip just outside the suburbs. When Aimeric rolled down the windows, he was inundated with the smell of salt water. 

For a Friday afternoon, it was fairly crowded with families, teenagers, and groups of elderly people walking the yellow stretch of sand. Like most beaches in Akielos, local restaurants and bars sent workers to walk the beach and try to sell drinks. The heat seemed more intense closer to the surf and Aimeric was overcome with the desire to throw himself into the water.

He was almost out of the car before Jord had shifted to park and would have sprinted to the waves if a strong hand hadn’t clamped onto the back of his shirt.

“Wait.” Nikandros was digging into his bag with his free hand. “You Veretians are so goddamn pale. If you get burnt I’m going to be on aloe duty for weeks.”

“I do it on purpose.” Jord kissed Nikandros’ cheek. “Nidya took a massage class for basic physical therapy. It feels so nice.” Aimeric considered it; he had always been quietly fond of how warm Nikandros’ hands were. 

“Skin cancer is not a joke Jord.” Nikandros said. “Now hold still; I’ll get your back. Gods, you’re so pale.”

Aimeric understood the appeal of burning as Nikandros all but stripped his shirt off and massaged sunscreen into his back and down his waist. It might as well have been concealer for how well it blended into Aimeric’s skin and he could almost feel his shoulders begin to freckle as Nikandros got his hands on Jord and began to grease him up too.

“We have to wait fifteen minutes for the lotion to soak in.”

“Yes mom.” Aimeric said absently, as he saw the strip of teal that was so tantalizingly close.

“Nidya,  _ please _ .” Jord laughed.

Per usual, Nikandros ignored Jord entirely and did not let either of them leave until the allotted fifteen minutes were up. “Alright, you--.” Aimeric didn’t hear what else Nikandros had to say because he was sprinting across the parking lot and into the sand. He had always been a good runner and the heat of the sand propelled him even faster. 

He threw himself into the surf and it was like the sweetest embrace on earth. 

Aimeric stayed under, simply enjoying the feeling of his hair floating around his face, until someone reached under the waves and hoisted him up. 

Nikandros grinned down at him, clearly uncaring that Aimeric was at eye level with the tattoo encircling his left nipple. “You’re so quick! Did you run competitively before?” Aimeric glanced down and saw that the man did not take part in the Akielon proclivity to go nude at the public beach.

“Yeah. In high school. I have to be able to run from my problems.”

“Can’t escape me.” His smile was so bright, Aimeric thought he’d burn from it. 

“Speaking of problems, where’s Jord?” Aimeric asked as Nikandros set him down. The sand shifted under his feet and Nikandros held him steady around the waist. 

“He’s coming, relax.”

Jord came to them at a leisurely pace, his long hair already waving from the humid, salty air. Though not as muscular as Nikandros, he was still so lean and toned that it made Aimeric feel self conscious. He was too thin and wrapped his arms around his ribcage. 

“You cold already Rika?” Jord called. “The water’s so warm.”

Nikandros squeezed Aimeric a little tighter and Aimeric suddenly couldn’t breathe well. Jord slipped under the waves and, when he emerged, his hair was slick to his head, dark as a seal’s pelt. 

Aimeric had only just started to appreciate the look on him when Nikandros tipped backwards, pulling Aimeric back under the water in a massive splash. He felt Nikandros’ long braids swaying around him, sinuous as snakes. Aimeric used his perfect abdomen as a springboard to launch himself back up to the surface, laughing as he heard Nikandros yelp under the water.

“What did you do, Rika?” Jord asked, catching him under the armpits as he breached the surface.

“I can’t just be happy?” Aimeric asked between catching his breath.

“You look wicked.” Jord said, though he seemed delighted by it. His eyes were crinkled with good humor, his smile wide. His face would freckle and brown under the sun, Aimeric was sure of it. 

“Brat!” Nikandros called from where he’d surfaced and Aimeric ducked behind Jord with agility he didn’t possess on land. Jord was laughing, raising his hands in an attempt to placate Nikandros. It didn’t work as Nikandros simply rushed them, hoisting Jord over one shoulder, Aimeric over the other.

“Nidya!” Jord laughed as Aimeric squealed, Nikandros’ firm shoulder digging into his stomach. “You’re just showing off.”

“Are you impressed?” Nikandros was clearly teasing him.

“Of course I am. You’re incredibly attractive...for an Akielon.”

“What an honor.” Nikandros let go of Jord and the man slid off his bicep back into the ocean. “Now excuse me while I throw your countryman out into the open water.” He was as good as his word, Aimeric sailing through the air and plunking into the water with a scream. It really was unreal how strong Nikandros was. They were both laughing when he made his way back to them. 

His eyes were drawn from their smiles to the glints of gold around their necks. 

“You have matching necklaces.” He said when he swam abreast of them. He had never seen the pendants outside their shirts and he touched Jord’s, the metal disc warm from skin and sun. 

“Nidya and I bought them for each other.” Jord cleared the wet hair from Aimeric’s cheeks. “They have our names engraved in Veretian, Akielon, Patran, and Vaskian.” Aimeric felt them under the pad of his thumb, their names set in a spiral across the faces of the gold disc. 

“It’s nice…” 

No room for a third name.

“I’ll race you, brute.” Aimeric said to Nikandros, dropping the subject of the necklaces immediately. “Winner’s country is superior.” Nikandros looked like he was about to roll his eyes but then they caught fire with the potential for competition. Even though he was more powerful, Aimeric had the skill and Nikandros’ braids would slow him down.

“Jord, count us down.”

Of course, in spite of Nikandros’ best efforts, both Jord and Aimeric burned. 

It was near sundown when the three of them traipsed back to their car, Aimeric and Jord’s hair wavy with salt, all of them covered in sand. 

The beach would have been enough for Aimeric but Nikandros and Jord were always surprising him. Exhausted from treading water and glutted with sunlight, Aimeric dozed lightly in the backseat of the car and did not wake until they were back in the city and Jord was handing the keys to an incredulous valet.

“Where are we?” He asked, clearing the salt-stiff curls from his eyes as Nikandros helped him from the car.

“We’re having dinner at a friend’s restaurant. Oh, gods Rika, your scalp is pink too.” Aimeric leaned into him, ignoring his stream of nursing as the three of them went inside.

Aimeric almost laughed as they stepped inside the hotel.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected, knowing that most restaurants inside hotels were swanky, but nothing to this degree. It looked as though the lobby was dusted hourly, the receptionist was model sleek, and guests paid for their rooms without even bothering to hear the nightly rate for a suite. And he, Jord, and Nikandros had basically barreled in, sticky from sunscreen and slightly burnt, tracking sand onto the polished marble floors. 

“They’re going to kick us out.” Aimeric whispered through nervous giggles as he felt people staring. 

“Let Vannes try.” Jord squeezed Aimeric’s shoulder. “I’ve turned a blind eye to her girlfriend’s transgressions so many times, I should be a partner in this hotel.” Aimeric’s eyes widened, shocked at hearing about Jord’s uncharacteristic rebellious streak. “What? I told you, I’m Veretian to the core. I just hide it well.”

“Speak of the devil: Vannes.”

The woman who approached them was clearly nearing forty, though age had sharpened her good looks to a razor point. Her smile was professional and welcoming, though Aimeric could tell she was warring between irritation and genuine fondness. She kissed Nikandros’ cheeks first, a mist of expensive Veretian perfume following in her wake. 

Her low voice was almost melodic, a purr below the faint din of the hotel. “Nidya. You lot are an eyesore.”

Nikandros grinned at her, undeterred. “Don’t you mean ‘a sight for sore eyes’?”

Vannes rolled her eyes before kissing Jord. “Such a way with words. Jorka, if you ever lose him, I want him. And this must be Aimeric.” Aimeric was kissed next and braced himself as Vannes studied him with practiced intensity, one manicured hand under his chin. “Pretty, aren’t you, Rika?”

“I try. Vannya?” He guessed and was rewarded with a distinctly feline grin from Vannes.

Her dark eyes flicked from Aimeric to Jord and Nikandros in a way that had Aimeric’s teeth on edge, ready to lie. She kept her thoughts to herself and sighed. “Well, I did promise that I’d have a table set aside for any friends of mine. I ought to hose you down in one of the suites but...fuck it, I have some annoying guests tonight who’d hate sand in their t ête de veau. Follow me.”

People parted around Vannes, all but evacuating the elevator as she swiped her key card and brought them to the top floor of the hotel where the restaurant was located. 

Even though Aimeric worked in an upscale restaurant, he was shocked by the sheer opulence of the restaurant.

It was a place his father would have killed to be invited to, a restaurant that was only visited for the most auspicious of occasions. Aimeric was so far out of his league that he began to truly wonder how Nikandros and Jord knew all of these affluent people. Restaurateurs and hotel presidents, hospital owners and high-powered lawyers--hell, Nikandros’ family apparently owned the building the three of them lived in. They certainly didn’t seem like his vision of the wealthy, slightly crisped and covered in sand. 

It was clear that only Vannes’ presence kept them from being booted back to the lobby but no one seemed brave enough to argue with her as she ordered a table be set up for them near the massive windows.

“You unrepentant bastards; enjoy your meal.” Vannes said lightly, swiping some sand off Jord’s shoulder. “I’ll send you over a bottle of wine. Also, Rika,” she leaned over to him, a smile in her voice, “if you need any dirt on these fools,  _ please _ let me know. I’ve known Jorka since he was an awkward teenager so I have an encyclopedia’s worth of stories. This one is a bit of a delinquent too.” She inclined her head to Nikandros who was looking like he was debating getting in a fight with her.

“My first impression of him was that he’s a punk.” It took all of Aimeric’s self control not to grin widely at Nikandros’ look of baffled betrayal. Jord hiccupped.

“Thank god Aimeric has some good sense to compliment his pretty face.” She said, patting his cheek.

Nikandros shook his head as she left them to peruse the menu. “Don’t you laugh!” He swatted at Jord and Aimeric with his menu.

“Nidya, I’ve seen pictures of you from high school. Punk is a way of life when it comes to you, even though you’ve lost the spikes and the eyeliner,” Nikandros blushed so dark, his face almost looked sunburnt, “Also I’m going to have the vichyssoise as a starter. Should we order more wine as well?” Aimeric continued to laugh softly as he looked over the menu, alarmed at the fact that there were no prices next to any of the choices. “Vannes will give us a good vintage red but it’s only one bottle…”

“Just buy one of each.” Aimeric offered and Nikandros raised his eyebrows as if he was seriously considering it. “And...speaking of buying...could we ask how much these appetizers are? I--”

Nikandros shot him a glance. “Order whatever you want, Rika. We’re paying.”

“Thank you.” He murmured, relieved that he would not have to shamefully ask for the cheapest appetizer on the menu. It was becoming easier to accept their gifts, their little kindnesses that made things easier and softened him. “I won’t...get too much.” It would be a hard promise to keep when everything on the menu sounded delicious. 

“Get a lot. A bowl of butter will get some roses in your cheeks.” Jord said. “Nidya, I’ve narrowed the choices to three bottles.”

“Any more roses in either of you and I’ll have to take you into the ER for second-degree burns.” Nikandros said without looking up. “Pasty little things.”

In the end, Nikandros limited Jord’s purchases to two bottles, plus the rich burgundy that Vannes sent out along with a deep tureen of black truffle oil. Aimeric knew Nikandros and Jord loved food and fine wine, but he had never seen them truly in action. The two of them ordered enough for five people, enough that Aimeric did not even bother to order. 

Nikandros spooned helpings of dishes directly onto his plate and Jord kept his glass filled so there was almost no conversation between the three of them for the first twenty minutes of dinner. 

He took a breath between courses and Jord took the opportunity to pour him more wine. Unlike with Krister, Aimeric felt not a moment of concern. “You know one of us is going to have to drive home.”

“We can leave the car here overnight and call a cab.” Nikandros shrugged as he popped a scallop into his mouth.

“Did you enjoy today?” Jord asked. “Aside from our matching sunburns…”

He was so comfortable, so at peace with the wine and food and the company that his mouth started working faster than his mind.

“I always wanted this, you know?” His vision blurred a little as he looked out at the city. “When I...was younger I always thought...going out would be like this. I thought that I’d have someone who loved me do these kinds of things.” It hurt, a faint twinge in his chest, that no lover ever had...and that the men who did do something so sweet and thoughtful were already in a loving, committed relationship. “Like something out of a romance movie. So fucking cheesy.”

He jolted as someone took his hand and squeezed it. It was Jord, strands of his hair falling from his ponytail and into his sweet face. “We’ll do this for you, Rika. As much as you want.”

Aimeric was flustered and turned to Nikandros, who was normally sharper and more sarcastic with him. Hopefully the punk would shut Jord down and rein in the warm bit of hope Aimeric was feeling. 

Nikandros’ braids swayed as he tilted his head. When he smiled it all but cut Aimeric to the quick. “Of course. You deserve it.” 


	12. Like Sleep to the Freezing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a little brutal so this one is super sweet to tide you all over.  
> I love to think that Auguste in this story is a natural flirt haha! He's just so fucking charming, he's like a lead character in a romance novel so that people can forgive him for being a real shark of a lawyer ;) And to be real, I'd love to just write a fic of Jord, Nik, and Aimeric going on a road trip from Ios to Arles. It would take them a month with how distracted Jord is haha! But Nik secretly likes it ;)  
> Enjoy!

**12\. Like Sleep to the Freezing**

Aimeric should have been used to his life changing for the better at breakneck speed. But sometimes it still caught him unawares.

Like when Ancel, Kallias, Erasmus, and Isander invited him to Berenger’s apartment to cook dinner and drink the man’s fine wine and play games before falling asleep in a pile of pillows and blankets and couch cushions in the living room. His friends, inviting him for a night over for the first time since middle school. Or when Pallas, Lazar, and Laurent somehow discovered his birthday and threw a party in  _ Stål,  _ their entire massive friend group packing into a single Vaskian banquet table, all while plying him with gifts and food and wine.

He almost cried from the forbidden feeling in his chest when Jord and Nikandros also revealed that they had gotten him gifts. Rotten, sweet rich boys...

Jord had gotten him a bicycle--surely as much a wicked Veretian joke as it was genuinely sweet and useful, what with all Aimeric teased him for his bike--while Nikandros got him a membership to a very nice gym with three massive swimming pools so he could get into the water as much as he liked even when it was too cool for the beach. 

“You’re welcome,” they had both murmured in reaction to his quiet thanks, Jord kissing his cheeks, Nikandros his forehead, as Laurent and Ancel watched with sharp eyes.

But some of the greatest bit of good news came after he had just biked home from the gym one afternoon, his curls still damp and smelling of chlorine.

Nikandros had attempted to dry his hair with a dish towel, chastising him about getting sick, when the doorbell rang. Aimeric escaped, using the convenient excuse of the door to get away from Nikandros and having his hair smell like stale dishes.

It was Auguste standing outside the door, looking so devastating in a tailored three-piece suit that Aimeric momentarily forgot everything else on the planet. Auguste and his brother could single-handedly make someone lose their mind. 

“Rika.”

“A-Auguste.” Aimeric shivered as Auguste leaned forward and kissed his cheeks. “What brings you--?”

Auguste was already halfway into the apartment by then, taking Aimeric’s waist in a suave motion that had clearly worked wonders on countless people before. It was working on Aimeric and he felt his heart leap as Auguste ushered him inside, closing the door behind him. Maybe he was too easily impressed; to be fair, he hadn’t had sex in almost a year…

“Turn down the charm, for god’s sake.” Nikandros called out, “We’re in an apartment, not your firm; he doesn’t need to be wooed.” 

“Nidya,  _ everyone _ needs to be wooed.” Auguste dropped his expensive leather briefcase so he could sweep Aimeric up into his arms, carrying him like a princess. “I’ll steal Jorka from you if you’re not careful. If you don’t woo him.”

“Try it you blond bastard.” Nikandros threatened, emerging with a cup of yogurt in one hand, brandishing a spoon with the other. “I’m only forgiving you for this because you didn’t bring Laurent. Yogurt?”

Auguste deposited Aimeric on the couch so he could retrieve his briefcase and kiss Nikandros as well. “Jord working? Ah, it’s ok. I’ll just tell you both and you can let him know.” 

“Let him know what?” Aimeric finally found his tongue.

Auguste unclasped his briefcase and let it fall open on his lap, taking out a heavy manila envelope and handing it to Aimeric. His smile was blinding and triumphant; he looked a lot like his brother when he smiled. “It took me an age, some clever interpretation of the law, and several favors but I finally got it for you.” Aimeric pulled out the contents and his breath caught in his throat. So precious. “New national ID and health insurance. Now you can go out and cause as much mayhem as you like, Rika.”

“Auguste, I thought Jord and Berenger made us all swear to no carte blanche on mayhem.” Nikandros wandered over, curious to see the precious documents that had made such an impression during their first meeting. 

“To be honest we’ve been doing a terrible job. Lazar alone is anarchy incarnate. Oh, what wide eyes you have.” Aimeric knew his eyes must have been huge as he pressed the documents to his chest. 

Aimeric’s smile caught him by surprise. It was helplessly excited and giddy, his cheeks aching from the unfamiliar feeling of it. “ _ Really _ ? They’re real?” His curls whipped his cheeks as he turned to Nikandros, the man seemingly shocked by Aimeric’s delight over legal documents. “I can go to the clinic and the hospital again!” 

Nikandros tilted his head. “You...you won’t have to go to the hospital any time soon.”

He had momentarily forgotten that Nikandros and Jord wouldn’t hurt him. Even so, it didn’t temper his joy. “Even so...I won’t have to worry anymore.”

“If anyone puts you back in the hospital, I’m going to raze this city to the foundations.” Nikandros said.

“No mayhem, he says.” Auguste laughed to himself.

“Thank you, Auguste.” Aimeric was so elated, he felt his voice coming out in a breathy whisper, unable to help himself. “It’s more than I…I don’t know how I can ever repay you.” His legal fees were likely astronomical and the documents themselves were worth all the money in his bank account. 

He did not even flinch as Auguste cupped his cheek, stroking the soft skin right under his eye. “You’re sweet. You don’t need to do anything to repay me; these types of favors are the least I can do for a friend. Maybe just if I show up at Eld, pretend you’re hopelessly in love with me so I can incite the envy of everyone else in the restaurant.”

Aimeric smiled. “Right now I wouldn’t have to pretend.”

“Ok, ok we get it Auguste; your services come cheap for a pretty face. You don’t have to rub it in.” Of course Nikandos had to put a damper on Auguste’s charm, though Aimeric felt his chest flutter as Nikandros sat next to him and gently ruffled his curls.  _ Nikandros thought he had a pretty face _ .

Auguste laughed at Nikandros before sobering up a little. “The only thing I couldn’t get for you was a new copy of your birth certificate. They only give out one copy and...it will make things hard if you lose these documents again. You...you wouldn’t happen to be able to get it, would you?”

Aimeric blanched, curling in on himself a little. “I...it’s...at my parent’s house.”

It may as well have been on the moon. 

Nikandros must have heard his consternation because one warm hand rested lightly on Aimeric’s neck, massaging it slightly, likely hoping to soothe him. It was working and Aimeric relaxed. 

Auguste seemed to understand and his smile returned with full brilliance. “It’s alright if not. Just be careful with these, ok?”

“Ok.”

Auguste did accept their offer to stay for dinner and Aimeric was not sure when Nikandros would spill the entire situation to Jord but he knew them well enough to know that it was inevitable. He was wholly unsurprised when Jord approached him after Auguste had left, gently gathering his hair into a bun; Aimeric hadn’t even seen Jord and Nikandros discuss it, even though all four of them had all been seated around the same table. It was almost impressive. 

“Rika, are sure you--”

“Am I sure I don’t want to go home?” Aimeric asked and laughed as Jord’s hands stopped. “It  _ would _ make things easier but…” he faltered before remembering that he trusted Jord, “I’m afraid of seeing my father. He just...he never really cared about me. I’m a bit of the family disappointment. If I go back I’m afraid I’ll see him and just...run away again.”

All of his sharpness and bravado fell away in the face of his father. 

It was like the sheer sight of the man stripped him down to the weak, docile little boy that every abusive bastard in the city seemed to be able to sniff out. Guion never trusted or believed Aimeric.

He did not realize that his hands were shaking until Jord reached over his shoulders to take them, his arms encasing Aimeric like an embrace. “You don’t have to be afraid. Nidya and I will go with you, if you want. We’ll go with you to Fortaine to get your birth certificate.”

Aimeric touched Jord’s wiry arms, the feeling of unrest over his father dissipating over the comfort of the embrace. His resolve wavered. “I’ll...think about it.”

Jord rested his chin on Aimeric’s shoulder, his whisper conspiratorial. “If anything, think about how fun it will be to watch Nikandros terrorize your terrible family. He really has a way with stuffy, snobby Veretians.” The imagery had the desired effect and Aimeric laughed as Jord squeezed his hands. “There he is; wicked again. Think it over ok? I won’t push you.” 

“I might.” Nikandros said unrepentantly from where he had been eavesdropping.

Aimeric stuck his tongue out at Nikandros, the last wisp of fear and desperation fleeing at the baiting of his punk nurse. Not even someone as terrifying as his father could stand a chance against Nikandros when there was fire in his eyes and blood on his knuckles.

He wasn’t entirely unsurprised when the anxiety came back with a vengeance that night. 

When his roommates were not holding him, not within arms’ reach, it was easy to let the fear creep back in. He breathed carefully as he thought of them flanking him; no one could scare him with Jord and Nikandros beside him. Clutching his knees to his chest, he debated on whether or not he could go back to Fortaine.

He made his decision around 3:30 in the morning, his steps soft as he padded down the hallway to Jord and Nikandros’ bedroom. 

He had never gone in their room while they were sleeping and he was surprised to see that Nikandros slept with head pillowed on Jord’s chest; he honestly thought it would have been the other way around. They looked so tender and he felt a rush of affection as he saw Jord gently scratch the base of Nikandros’ head. He almost didn’t want to wake them.

He shook Jord’s bare shoulder and Nikandros woke when Jord did, the both of them sitting up when they saw him. Aimeric wondered why he had ever been anxious when the two of them pulled him forward and stroked his curls from his face and held his hands.

“Rika, are you alright?”

“Is everything ok? Did something happen?” 

Aimeric was warm as he basked in their attention. “I’ll go. Let’s go to Fortaine.”

The drive to Fortaine would take a few hours and the three of them packed for an overnight stay, even though Aimeric had insisted he’d be fine with as short a stay as possible.

“You have never been on a road trip with Jord.” Nikandros said as he hoisted duffel bags into the backseat of their car. “He likes to take stops along the way. I have to drive to Arles or Ios because otherwise it would take ages to get there. I hope you like local, organic fruit stands.”

“I do. Hope we see some lavender fields as well.”

Nikandros gave him a long look. “We’ll never make it there before the weekend is over.”

He was not exaggerating.

“Nidya, a strawberry stand!” Jord pointed out, only after about an hour and half outside Marlas. Nikandros glanced back at Aimeric, his expression one of a man who was dead inside. Aimeric laughed silently. “Berya loves strawberries… and we should support local farmers.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake...Jord we can stop if you really want to, but we might want to wait to buy perishable souvenirs on the drive back, don’t you think?”

“It’s two baskets for three dollars!” Aimeric called, pointing out the sign. “We have to stop for that!” Nikandros pinched the bridge of his nose at being overruled as Jord pulled into the gravel parking lot. “I wonder if they have soda as well? I bet they do tours of the fields.”

“I love tours!” Jord lit up, delighted to have a kindred spirit.

“We’re not even two hours outside the city!” Nikandros groaned, even though he got out of the car and ruffled Aimeric’s curls. Aimeric winked at him. 

Part of him was stalling so that he would not have to be back in Fortaine so soon. But he also genuinely liked exploring with the two of them. It was an unconventional place to be considered for a date, but...there was something fun about something so simple as shopping for berries with Jord and Nikandros. 

Only by the calm advice of Nikandros did Jord and Aimeric keep from buying bushels of fruit for their friends back in the city. Still, Aimeric had a small basket of tart raspberries on his lap, Nikandros’ lips stained violet from the blueberries he had eaten by the time the three of them had finished buying fruit and got back into the car. Perhaps it was the sugar from the fruit giving them energy, but it only took them another half an hour to stop again.

“Oh a waterfall!” Aimeric said unthinkingly as he saw the sign on the side of the road. Nikandros’ braids sounded like a whip cracking against the side of the car as he turned to shoot an imploring glance at Aimeric. The damage was done.

“Let’s stop!”

“Oh my god.” Nikandros groaned.

But Jord was incorrigible and Aimeric was too quick for Nikandros to give them a time limit; thanks to his running, Aimeric was the first up the trail and at the lip of a shallow pool, staring up at the cascade. He thought about hiking up behind the falls but his shoes did not have great traction. 

He yelped as his soles slipped on the rocks and a strong arm slipped around his waist, holding him steady. 

Nikandros was breathing a little heavy, his eyes bright from having run after Aimeric. As always, seeing him in that state was like receiving a wash of heat. “Now isn’t the time for a swim.”

Aimeric held the arm on his waist, liking it there. “You’re fighting a losing battle here.”

Nikandros raised his eyebrows. “Brat. You have fifteen minutes.”

Aimeric grinned at him, relishing the fact that Nikandros was weak to him and Jord, and only ducked from Nikandros’ grip when Jord finally caught up to the both of them. “Jord let’s go behind the falls!”

Jord took his hand, steadying Aimeric as Aimeric blazed a trail over the slippery stones close to the falls. Their hair began to disobey in unison from the freshwater mist, Jord’s waving softly while Aimeric’s spiraled out of control into his face. He never worried about falling; Jord’s hand was too steady. 

It was a bit of a disappointment that there was no great hiding place behind the falls--no cave or place to explore--just smooth, wet rock and the inexorable rush of water. 

Jord cleared his hair from his eyes with his free hand, smoothing the wet strands back; the slicked style and his smile suited him and Aimeric couldn’t help but smile too. 

“Nidya!” He shouted, cupping his hand over his mouth so that the sound echoed out across the banks where Nikandros was standing. “You should have come back here! It’s beautiful!”

“I like it better out here!” Nikandros responded.

The wind blew the curtain of water and both Aimeric and Jord saw Nikandros lounging on the grass, his braids also swaying from the breeze. He was rolling his eyes though he was clearly indulging them, a smile threatening the corners of his lips. He looked like a figure from a fine Veretian painting.

Jord saw it too, his hazel eyes becoming blurry with love. “Gods, Nidya. So handsome…”

“He is, isn’t he?” Aimeric whispered, unable to help himself. “It drives me insane.”

They both drove him crazy, though with each passing day, it was less an annoyance and more...something he didn’t want to admit to himself yet. He squeezed Jord’s hand, hoping to ground himself. 

Jord squeezed back. 

Fortaine should have only been a three to four hour drive from Marlas but, thanks to the combined efforts of Jord and Aimeric, the three of them did not arrive in the city until past dinnertime. 

They had found a lavender field though, and Aimeric held bunches of them in his arms as they got to their hotel.

The flowers fit well. The hotel was a classic Veretian affair, with cream colored walls and creaking wooden floors, the double doors leading out into a wrought iron balcony only big enough for one person to lean out for a smoke. Though Nikandros and Jord had booked a suite for three, it was a little strange to see the two queen-sized beds in the same room. 

Nikandros tossed himself into one of them, his braids spilling off the sides. “Jord, I swear to the gods, I’m going to blindfold you on the way back. You’re worse on road trips than my uncle Makedon and he likes  _ Laurent _ .” Jord was laughing as he kissed Nikandros’ forehead.

“You have to admit that the cafe on the border was lovely.”

“ _ You’re _ lovely, Jord.”

Aimeric ignored their flirtation as he wandered out to the claustrophobic balcony and surveyed the city below him. 

Fortaine had some rough areas he had frequented, but this was a nicer section of town, free from tourists and the wilder locals; his mother had been fond of a brunch place just down the road, his brother had taken cello lessons maybe a block or two over. He recognized the area, recognized the very air of Fortaine, as if he had never been away at all. It was almost frightening how little things seemed to have changed in the city and his heart beat in stutters as he remembered the route home.

_ Home _ .

No. His home was in Marlas, miles away. This was simply...his parent’s house.

He must have stayed out on the balcony long enough to cause alarm. A long arm, warm and heavy draped over his shoulder and chest, pulling him tight against Nikandros’ chest. 

“Are you still worried?” He asked softly.

“A little.” Aimeric was underplaying his anxiety, though it was dissipating in Nikandros’ presence.

“Hmmm. Maybe you should eat something?” Aimeric snorted at the typical Akielon response to any situation. “We have some of that blackberry wine as well.”

Aimeric looked back at him and found that, no matter his mood, it seemed that Nikandros could make him smile. “I’m beginning to like that your remedy for every issue is either food or alcohol.”

“Strong shoulder massage and a warm bath are also valid suggestions.” Jord interjected, peering over Nikandros’ shoulder. It sounded good too but the wine and food would be easier on his heart.

“This balcony is getting crowded.” He said.

Food and wine did help a little as they walked to a local restaurant for dinner and treated themselves to a spread of favorites from Aimeric’s childhood. The fresh olive paste of his hometown, spread on sesame crackers made him feel slightly better as they discussed their schedule for the next day, going to Aimeric’s old house early so that the rest of the day before the drive home could be spent on happier activities or...at least recovery from Guion.

The whole of Fortaine was an open wound for Aimeric and he found himself pulled between relaxation and good humor in the company of Nikandros and Jord to edginess and outright fear whenever he saw something that brought back memories. Of course they noticed that he was not himself.

Hell, he did not even have the state of mind to resort to his usual sharp brattiness.

“Come here Rika.” Jord said as Aimeric sat on his bed, staring blankly at his phone. “Let me comb out your curls.” 

Aimeric obeyed without argument, sliding over to rest his head on Jord’s lap. The man’s fingers were so gentle in his hair and he was lulled by the feeling of it. “I’m scared, Jorka.” He didn’t know why he used the nickname but he felt...like it showed how sincere he was. Jord’s hands paused for a moment.

“We won’t let anyone else hurt you. Don’t be scared.”

Aimeric closed his eyes, only stirring again as another, warmer hand rested on his head a little while later. “Is he asleep? Aimeric...” Though Aimeric knew he should move, he could not bring himself to do it.

Still letting himself be selfish, Aimeric fell asleep on Jord’s lap.


	13. Sweet and Right and Merciful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All together now: Guion is a real bitch, a real bastard, a real piece of shit. You all are going to hate him so much. But hey! More on Aimeric's background and a lot of why he is the way he is. Poor lil dude. Also Aimeric FINALLY realizes what he's feeling for Jord and Nik but everyone is out of their minds if you think I would ever make things easy for them haha!  
> We're in the home stretch babes; only 5 chapters left to go! Enjoy!

**13\. Sweet and Right and Merciful**

Aimeric was up before the sun, too nervous to sleep longer, even though he found it a waste.

Jord had leaned back, still in his street clothes, allowing Aimeric to use his stomach as a pillow. Nikandros was curved beside them both, his braids everywhere. It seemed like a waste to get up when he finally...finally…

But he had to move or he would go mad. So to the balcony he went, to watch the sun rise over his city. No...not his anymore...

Nikandros was awake next and patted Aimeric’s wild curls as he drank coffee. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I’m so nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous. We’ll be with you. If he starts to fuck with you, then I swear to the gods--.” Aimeric heard the latent fury in Nikandros’ voice and it did not help his nerves.

“ _ Please _ , Nidya.” The nickname must have given Nikandros pause because his touch lightened. “Please. I know you won’t...hurt me, but please try not to get mad.” He thought of Nikandros’ shimmering hot fury and he felt a cold prick of fear. “It scares me when you’re mad a-and...I don’t want to be afraid of you.”

Nikandros sighed and Aimeric felt the weight of Nikandros’ chin on his head. “I’m...I’m sorry if I scared you. I’m overprotective and I don’t like it when people I--when my friends are in trouble. I promise I’ll...try to be more in control.”

“Feisty Akielons.”

“If you can believe it, Damen is worse.” A strong arm crossed Aimeric’s collarbone and squeezed him back into Nikandros’ body for a split second. “I’ll  _ never _ hit you. I won’t let anyone else hit you either. If they do, I’ll...I’ll send Ancel after them.”

Aimeric laughed. “A fate worse than death.”

“No, that would be Laurent.”

It was a relief that he could still laugh in spite of his terror, but the feeling faded not long after the three of them left the hotel and traced the familiar route back to Aimeric’s old home. His lungs felt as though they had shrunk to the size of peas when they turned on to his street, when he saw the familiar brownstone apartments that had caged him in for so long. 

His legs stopped moving and Nikandros and Jord pulled up short as well.

“I can’t.” Aimeric whispered.

Nikandros looked back at him but it was Jord who reached out and cupped Aimeric’s cheek in one hand, moving his fingers softly. “You  _ can _ , Rika. You’re strong enough.”

“Anyone who can give Ancel and Laurent grief shouldn’t feel fear from anyone.” Nikandros added, smiling. Jord elbowed him.

“We’ll be right next to you.”

“I’d prefer you in front of me.” Aimeric admitted. “Trust me...I’m going to need all the barriers I can get…”

Nikandros nodded in understanding, pulling Aimeric so he was pressed up against Nikandros’ side. Jord crushed close to Aimeric’s other side so that he was sandwiched in between the two of them. Not many people on earth could hurt him from such a position. 

“Feel better?” Jord asked, squeezing Aimeric’s waist.

His heart was still racing but it was not all fear…

He was able to keep going, though he was thankful for Nikandros and Jord holding him up as they approached the front door of his old house. His knees were shaking and breath was coming in shorter and shorter gasps, despite how he wanted to be as cold and sharp as normal. Nikandros looked down at him--ever the concerned nurse--and began to measure his own breaths so Aimeric could follow along.

“Jord, love, will you get the door?”

The bell buzzed in a familiar monotone and Aimeric was reasonably sure that he would have collapsed without Nikandros and Jord’s arms around him. He almost prayed that no one was home.

But no such luck.

Aimeric’s father was exactly how he remembered: a coiled spring constantly ready to lash out at any given moment though he hid it well when he first saw Nikandros and Jord. He could smell money on people and Nikandros’ size and confidence alone must have given the man pause.

“Gentlemen. How can I help--?”

He caught sight of Aimeric, half shielded behind the two of them, and his expression changed almost immediately to thunderous disbelief. Aimeric blanched and clutched Nikandros and Jord’s shirttails for support. His father’s obvious anger crushed into him like the blow of a fist. 

“Aimeric?” His tone was a blast of fire.

“Hello, father.” 

His arm stretched across the gap of the door like a bar, his expression stony. “So...after all this time you come crawling back here.”

“I hardly crawled.” Aimeric said without thinking. “And I’m just...I’m not staying long. I just need--”

“ _ Need _ ? Oh, gods! What a surprise; you  _ need _ something! Let me guess? After all this time you’ve finally run out of funds and you’re here to beg.  _ Disgraceful _ .”

“I’m not--!” Aimeric did not know if he was going to refute the money aspect of the accusation or the disgraceful aspect. 

“The  _ gall _ of you, you spiteful little bitch! You embarrass us by running away--not even finishing your schooling, which, by the way, cost us a damn fortune! Do you know how much money your mother and I wasted on you?” So furious, Guion seemed to have completely forgotten that Jord and Nikandros were there to witness his tirade; usually he was on his best behavior in front of company. “You accuse a family friend of something heinous, with no proof, might I add, and then run away, all but cementing your guilt. Do you have any idea the fallout we suffered? Our  _ son _ , a liar and a delinquent, having to  _ explain _ that?” He stepped forward and Aimeric knew that this was normally the point in the ‘argument’ where his father would grip his shoulders and shake him. Nikandros leaned further in front of Aimeric, providing a very intimidating barrier. “And now you show up  _ years _ later with your--”

“Roommates.” Aimeric whispered.

“ _ Roommates _ ? Is that what you call them? Answer me honestly Aimeric! Have you been whoring yourself out?” Guion looked positively apoplectic with rage. “Are you trying to be as shameful as possible? Bringing your sponsors here to...to beg for money?” 

“I-I don’t--”

“You’re a  _ disgrace _ ! A disgrace and the worst kind of liar!” 

Aimeric felt resignation through his numbness. He had been a fool to feel any sort of hope for the reunion. This was the kind of ‘love’ he was used to and it was alarming how quickly he was slipping back into the shell of the man who would take it, take it like blows…

“Sir, I must ask you to calm down.”

Jord’s sensible voice cut through the haze, though he sounded strained.

Nikandros looked like fury incarnate, his body coiled so tight Aimeric was sure he was going to snap at any given moment. His father seemed too foolish to realize that he was treading on very dangerous ground, Aimeric and Jord being the only ones holding Nikandros back; like two strings holding back the full strength of a lion. It was a poor defense for Guion.

“Nikandros,  _ don’t _ .” Aimeric whispered. “You promised.”

“Nidya, I’ll handle it.” Jord’s murmur was authoritative but gentle enough that Nikandros relaxed...a little. Aimeric still kept one arm wrapped around Nikandros’ forearm, just in case. “Sir, to prevent any further public display, I’d like to ask you to allow me in for a more...civil discussion.” Jord withdrew his detective’s badge and Guion looked to Aimeric with disgust clear on his features.

“You little bitch. Again with the police? Why do you  _ insist _ on bringing shameful accusations into this house? Against your own name?” His face was red at Aimeric’s supposed gall. “This constant need for attention is pitiful! It’s  _ pitiful _ , Aimeric. I thought we were  _ past  _ these lies! You--”

Jord sighed and let go of Nikandros so he could brush past Guion, pulling him into the house. “We should have brought Laurent. I’ve never met someone so in need of a direct dose of Laurent’s personality. Sir, follow me.”

The moment the door shut, Nikandros and Aimeric sighed in unison, Nikandros’ entire body trembling. 

“ _ Fuck me _ . Is he always like this?”

“For the most part.” Aimeric admitted. “Now you can see where I get some of my more... _ charming  _ personality traits.”

Nikandros gave him an intense look as the both of them sank to the stoop, too filled with emotion to stand up much longer. “You are not even a quarter as bad. Hell I’d have run away much earlier. Would have made him eat glass first.”

“Everyone says you’re Damen’s impulse control. I cannot imagine how bad he must be.”

Nikandros took Aimeric’s hand and squeezed it every few moments, his knees bouncing in place. He must have wanted to pace. “He’s a menace to the public, I swear to the gods. If someone talked to Laurent like that...well, I’d hope your father enjoys drinking his meals through a thin fucking straw.” Just the thought of Guion brought back the rage to Nikandros’ features. “Bastard. I can see why you don’t want to come back. If he talks to you like that again I’m going to burn this house down.”

“Wait until Jord comes out at least.” Aimeric said, leaning his head against Nikandros’ bicep. Though he knew Nikandros was just venting, this violence did not scare him; he wanted to protect Aimeric and that was enough.

Nikandros rubbed the base of Aimeric’s neck. “You called the police when you lived here? Did he hit you?”

Aimeric shook his head. “No. Something else. I told him my...my deepest secret and he didn’t believe me.” It had taken all the courage in his body--fifteen years old but...too old--and though he had not expected support, per se, something small and hopeful inside of him had died when his father had screamed that he was a liar, his mother turning her head aside silently. He squeezed his knees close to his chest, uncaring that he could feel Nikandros studying his reactions. He had tried the police next and… “Really...nobody believed me.”

He yelped as Nikandros pulled him even closer, his warm arms curling protectively around Aimeric’s back. “I believe you.”

“You don’t even know what the secret is.” Aimeric felt his chest flood with warmth as his words were muffled in Nikandros’ chest.

Nikandros’ head rested heavy on Aimeric’s curls. “I know. But I still believe you and Jord believes you too. You’re many things--a lot of them that drive me absolutely insane--but you’re not a liar.”

Aimeric crushed his eyes closed, leaning into the embrace to keep from crying. It took him a few minutes to respond. “I want to go home. Let’s just go home…”

“I wholeheartedly concur.”

Aimeric pulled back slightly to look back toward the front door, smiling when he saw Jord’s familiar, beloved form. His hair had come completely out of his normal ponytail and was hanging in his face, a few red scratches across his cheek. He was flexing his hands open and closed as if they hurt him.

Of course Nikandros noticed too. “You hurt, love?”

Jord smiled. “We should go. I, erm...I may have gotten into a fistfight with your father.”

“Did you win at least?” Aimeric asked. 

Nikandros laughed as he helped Aimeric to his feet. “Asking the real questions. Also did you get the birth certificate?”

“I did win. I didn’t get the certificate but...we might still be able to get it. Follow me.”

Aimeric was shocked at the waves of energy rolling off of Jord. He had seen Nikandros several times shuddering with wounds and wild eyes but seeing Jord with shaking hands and flared nostrils was new. The fire in his hazel eyes was so attractive, Nikandros couldn’t stop watching his lover as the three of them took off at a lively jog away from Aimeric’s childhood home.

Aimeric didn’t look back. There was nothing there for him. 

The place Jord brought them was a small but upscale Veretian cafe a few blocks away, with wicker tables set up on the sidewalks, a fantastic brunch menu, and a waitress that didn’t seem to mind that Nikandros was using the ice and napkins as a cooling pack for Jord’s knuckles. The woman’s look of utter disinterest over the spots of blood on the fine white linen made Aimeric think that she would fit in well with the chaos at Eld. 

“You sure this is the place, love?” Nikandros asked as he inspected Jord’s elegant hands for more wounds. Aimeric longed to do the same but had to settle with just watching them without blinking. 

“Positive. Just give it time.”

They had only just ordered tea--as a group, woefully deciding that it was just a little too early for alcohol--when Aimeric heard someone approach their table, heels clicking the cobblestones, and heard Jord’s “ah”. 

When he turned, it took him a moment to catch his breath. 

From his mother, Aimeric had gotten his lush, wild curls, his pretty, elfin face, and his terrible taste in men. The careful, watchful look in her eyes Aimeric had only inherited after a few years, though it hurt him no less to see it in his mother’s eyes rather than his mirror. 

As always, Loyse wore an elegant lace blouse that was long to her wrists and styled her hair so that it hung around her face, shielding most of her expression from view.

“ _ Maman _ .” Aimeric murmured, not expecting her of all people. 

Nikandros stood quickly to pull out a chair for her and she smiled up at him for only a quick second before schooling her expression back to quiet indifference. Aimeric didn’t dare lean forward to kiss her cheeks; he was afraid he’d hurt her.

“She asked to meet us at this cafe.” Jord said through the somber atmosphere. “As I was, erm...excusing myself from the premises.“

She kept her eyes trained on Aimeric. “I did. I wanted to bring you this.” From her oversized handbag she drew a manila envelope with his name written across the flap. “It was the least I could do. I...I thought when you left that I would never see you again and yet…” There was warmth in her face, carefully hidden as she took his hand and squeezed it, “here you are, my wild boy.”

He knew his documents would be inside.

Aimeric smiled at her, a feeling like his heart would crack and the pieces would jut from his chest. “Here I am. I’m sorry I didn’t...I didn’t…” 

He wanted to embrace her and cry. She of all people would know how it felt and yet he couldn’t bear to tell her that he was just another loop in the endless cycle of long sleeves and bruises and broken hearts. 

“I know why you didn’t.” She murmured. “I still worry. All mothers worry. Are you...was it alright for you?”

He could not tell her of his first years in the city. He could not bear it or the tears would squeeze from his eyes.

Aimeric had gotten good at lying.

“Yeah. It’s alright. I’m...I’m ok. Jord and Nikandros take care of me.” She glanced at them, eyes wary though there was a smile on her face. “I have a job and a room in their apartment and I...I feel safe.”

Her thumb worked gentle circles on the skin of his hand. “I regret that I could not have done more. That I couldn’t…” She couldn’t protect herself or her sons. In the past, Aimeric would have been sharply bitter but now...now he wondered how far back it went. He wondered if his mother had learned at her mother’s feet what ‘love’ was like, as he had learned at hers. She saw the scar across his eyebrow and he saw the subtle clench of her jaw. “And they are...they’re good to you, my Aimeric? They don’t…?”

She must have been thinking of Nikandros’ size, of Jord fighting in her house, with eyes burning and knuckles bleeding.

Aimeric wished he could tell her everything.

The day Nikandros scraped him up off the sidewalk, the first sight of Jord after he had opened that bathroom door. When they walked him home and teased him, their fury for him. Their gentle hands in his hair, on his back, in his hands, the way they called his name.  _ Rika _ . 

How could he explain in such a short time that they were the two best men he had ever met? That he  _ loved  _ them. 

He closed his eyes to keep everything from spilling out of his eyes and mouth. “ _ Maman _ , they’re so good. They’re so good to me.”

He bowed his head and wished, for once, that Nikandros and Jord were gone so he could spill out his soul to his mother. He  _ loved  _ them. It was so wonderful because he loved them both. It was terrible because there was no room for him. His heart was so full and yet it was going to break to pieces. 

His breath was shaky as he tried to catch it and a single tear slipped out, dropping softly on the manila envelope.

He jumped a little as someone else took his free hand.

Aimeric blinked rapidly before looking up. Jord was himself again, smiling as he held Aimeric’s other hand and Nikandros was looking at him from across the table with a similar smile. They’d never hurt him. 

“I’m glad to hear it. Thank you for...taking care of my son.” She turned to Nikandros and Jord, finally looking them both in the eye for more than a split second. “I’ll be forever grateful to you both.”

The waitress of the cafe had impeccable timing. 

Nikandros and Jord’s blush was beginning to fade as she reappeared with tea and the first round of complimentary bread. And though Aimeric’s memories of his mother had always been colored bitterly of resentment over her inability to help him, now he found the bitterness gone. It had slipped through his fingers like water in the face of how much he loved her.

“We should take this rare opportunity to build up some ammunition.” Jord said, pouring the tea, “Loyse if you would be so kind to tell us any of Rika’s more embarrassing stories from childhood? I bet he was a real terror.”

Despite Aimeric’s rabid insistence that she do no such thing, his mother was apparently just as helpless as everyone else in the face of Nikandros and Jord’s combined charm. His face was surely the color of the tomatoes in his salad as his mother regaled them all with stories he had tried his best to forget.

She was so delighted by their company that she even walked back with them to their hotel after brunch, hand resting lightly in the crook of Aimeric’s arm. She seemed impressed by their accommodations.

“When are you leaving?” She asked.

“In a couple hours.” Aimeric said, his chest squeezing slightly at the thought of leaving her. “It takes us forever to get back because we keep getting distracted.”

“You make an excellent point.” Nikandros glanced pointedly at Jord. “Madam it has been a pleasure but I need to force my lover to pack his things or we’ll be here until midnight.”

Aimeric’s mother kissed them both on the cheeks before she was left alone with him on the sidewalk. 

“What good men.”

“They’re punks.” Aimeric said fondly.

“Aimeric, love. I’ve been thinking... I know that you may have built up your life in Marlas but…” his mother fiddled with his curls, pushing them out of his face in a similar way that Jord did, “your brothers live up in Arles and Etienne has a spare room. He’s often said that he’d like for you to come up and live with them, help you find work in the city. But of course we didn’t know how to contact you until now.”

Arles had always been his dream city; when they had gone on family trips, he was sure no place else could be so beautiful. 

His brothers were alright. They too had run away but at least they’d had the good sense to keep their mouths shut and finish high school before doing it.

But then…

He looked back, knowing that he would have to leave Nikandros and Jord. His heart pumped unevenly in his chest at the thought of leaving their house and company.

His mother saw his distress and squeezed his hands. “Whatever makes you happy. No need to decide right away, love.” 

“Thanks,  _ maman _ .”

She kissed his cheeks in preparation of farewell. “I love you, Aimeric. Little Rika. Let your mother know how you’re doing every so often.”

“They’re rubbing off on you.” Aimeric laughed, remembering how often Nikandros and Jord had called him ‘Rika’ during brunch. “To be fair, it happens since they’re an unstoppable force of nature. I’ve just gotten used to it. And I love you too.” She began to turn to leave and Aimeric felt a bolt of some wild, desperate emotion as he remembered what she was going back to. “ _ Maman _ . You shouldn’t...I know it’s hard but…” he pushed the curls from her face and saw his reflection, heard Nikandros’ words coming from his mouth, “no fall should do this to you. If you ever...want to leave, I can help you. I know...what it’s like.”

He had not wanted to cause her pain. He hated the look of profound sorrow that flashed across her lovely face.

But more than anything he hated the idea of her going back. 

“You deserve better,  _ maman _ .”


	14. I’m All But Washed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!  
> So first things first, was feeling pretty awful this past week so I got almost no writing done for the next chapter. There's an 80% chance I won't be able to update next week. But good news is, I am almost done with writing the rest of the story! Only like 15ish pages left for me to write!  
> Next, you all are going to HATE ME.  
> I'm the type where if I have a crush on someone, I tell them immediately, so I don't understand this whole 'keep your feelings bottled up inside' BS haha! Writing this felt so counterintuitive to me. JUST COMMUNICATE FOR GODS' SAKE. I have to remember that I want Aimeric to be a little insecure, as mouthy as he is, and Jord and Nik overthink everything. More drama to get you through the quarantine, I guess ;)  
> Anyways, I love you all; stay safe and healthy!

**14\. I’m All But Washed**

The staff at Eld loved the fresh flowers, fruit, and Fortaine chocolates that Nikandros, Jord, and Aimeric brought back from their trip, the lot of them clamoring over Aimeric when he doled them out at one of their after-work parties. They were at one of the outdoor cafes down the street from the restaurant that served tapas and cheap cocktails. It was always populated with massive groups of young people and the Eld waitstaff were such valued customers that the cafe owner always found their massive group a table and did not mind that they brought their own fruit.

“Did you have fun on your date with Nidya and Jord?” Lysander asked, rolling a blueberry in between his incisors before biting through it.

“It was  _ hardly _ a date.” Aimeric insisted though there was no force to his denial.

“You took them to meet your parents.” Kallias responded. “That’s huge in Akielos.”

“I never said my parents liked them.” Aimeric said eating a strawberry.

“Then your parents must be fucking blind.” 

“You should have secretly rented a room with one bed.” Lykaios said. “Been like ‘oh no, there’s only one bed! What are we going to do? Guess we’ll have to share’. Like something out of an online romance novel.” Her coworkers groaned at her cheesy suggestion and Aimeric did not have the patience to tell them that he had in fact shared a bed with Jord and Nikandros. 

He could not feign disgust while talking about his roommates any longer.

Ancel was leaned up against Aimeric’s shoulder, stabbing strawberries with jagged hunks of chocolate. “I’d thought you’d try to go by yourself, as much as you hate their meddling.”

Aimeric felt the prying intensity of his pale green gaze; just like Nikandros could sense lies, Ancel seemed to have a radar for when people were trying to hide their attraction. “It was easier just to have them along and spare them just showing up in Fortaine to meet me.”

“You’ve stopped fighting it.” Ancel said.

“I could sooner make it stop raining.”

Aimeric liked to think that he had given nothing away but he severely underestimated Ancel’s perception. The redhead yanked him up by the arm as their group continued to wax poetic about Nikandros and Jord. “Rika and I are going to smoke, we’ll be back in a bit.”

“Since when do you smoke?” Talik asked over her gin and tonic, her dark eyes challenging.

“Um, since I had to hear that awful story about you and Vannes making a sex tape.” Ancel said loudly, garnering the attention of half the cafe. Talik shook her head in disbelief, smiling even though her cheeks were as red as the strawberries. “Hoping the chemicals will scrub that story from my brain.”

Aimeric was dragged in his wake, almost docile for his confusion, until Ancel led him to an alley by the side of the cafe. Aimeric remembered the last time he and Ancel had been in an alley together and--even though this one was wider and better populated--he balked. Ancel looked surprised and then seemed to understand.

“Oh. Yeah, fair enough.”

“Talik is right,” Aimeric said as Ancel leaned up against the brick wall, seemingly uncaring that the rough surface could snag his expensive black leggings, “you don’t smoke. Berya would be disappointed.”

Ancel glared a little but Aimeric knew he was right. He could almost hear Berenger’s explanation of why smoking was terrible for the health and how he just wanted Ancel to take care of himself. Plus it would ruin the smell of Ancel’s expensive perfume.

“Oh look who knows so much. Fuck...you’re right though.”

“Why did you bring me here then?” Aimeric asked, leaning against the opposite wall. “Aside from a convenient opportunity to embarrass Talik.”

“She  _ hardly _ needs my help with that.” Ancel said, rolling his eyes. He scratched at his scalp near where he had tied his hair up into a braid. Clearly he was trying to figure out how to broach the subject. “Listen, I don’t give a shit one way or the other but...you haven’t been yourself since you came back from Fortaine. I’m not one to pry but--”

“That’s a fucking lie.” Aimeric laughed to hide his discomfort. 

“ _ But _ ! I have a feeling that you might be thinking about doing something fucking stupid. So what’s up?”

“Why would I ever tell you anyway?” 

“Who else would you tell? Nidya and Jord?” One perfect eyebrow arched up, calling his bluff and Aimeric narrowed his eyes. “Of course not! You like them so much that you’re not going to tell them whatever it is that’s bothering you. So...you’re left with me.” His grin was triumphant. “I’m all ears.”

Aimeric groaned.

He trusted Ancel with his life but wasn’t sure if he trusted the redhead with his secrets.

“Arles…” he began.

Ancel’s eyes lit up at the very mention of Arles. “Oh gods, Arles! Have you been? It’s amazing! Berya takes me every so often to go up and shop at all the--ok, ok! I get it, we can talk about my shopping excursions later. Though you have to let me give you some recommendations for stores so we can fix the  _ constant  _ issue of your ward--”

“Anechka, are you fucking serious?”

“Sorry! But it’s not hard to get decent clothes!”

“Wow, you are an unrepentant bitch aren’t you?” Aimeric rubbed his palm against the rough face of the exposed brick. “My brothers have been trying to convince me to move up with them to Arles.” Ancel tensed, his expression taking on the same look as when he had dealt with a difficult customer who left a terrible tip. “When I went to Fortaine my mother gave them my phone number and they’ve been asking me to move up.”

His brothers hadn’t been incessant, per se, but they were texting him almost daily to catch up and describe all the charms of the city.

“Are you considering it?” Ancel’s eyes snapped pale green sparks. He almost sounded...worried. “Are you seriously thinking about moving up there? What about--?” He seemed to understand before he even asked, biting his bottom lip to keep the words in.

He was perceptive. Annoyingly so.

“I am. It...it  _ hurts  _ to be here, Anechka.”

Ancel tilted his head, his expression concerned. “But...they’ll miss you. _ I’ll _ miss you, Aimeric.”

Those words haunted him even after he had come home, throughout throughout the week, even after he dozed lightly on the couch after dinner one evening. Ancel’s surprising look of dismay stayed in his mind as Nikandros was cycling through their seemingly endless library of jazz songs and Jord washed the dishes from dinner.

Running through his head in a cycle: Ancel’s distraught face, the swelling pain in his chest,  _ they _ would miss him. His heart was consumed with the thought of them, with his love for them.

Aimeric watched from under his lashes, unable to help himself.

Jord was shuffling side to side in a terrible approximation of dancing as he washed the dishes from dinner. Aimeric smiled, even though he was pretending to be asleep, over how well jazz suited Jord and his scruffy appearance, even though he had no rhythm in his hips. With his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and his dark hair pulled up higher than usual, his neck begged for a kiss and Aimeric was wholly unsurprised when Nikandros walked over to the kitchen.

Wrapping his long arms around Jord’s waist, Nikandros kissed the spot on Jord’s neck where it met his shoulder, swaying both their bodies together to the actual beat of the music. Jord smiled as the kisses continued.

“I’m going to end up breaking one of these plates if you keep...distracting me.”

“Is that what you call it? You Veretians can’t wash a dish and dance at the same time?” Nikandros ran his lips up the cords of Jord’s neck, along the line of his jaw and Aimeric crossed his legs. “Break the dish, love. I’ll buy you a whole new set.”

“You Akielons, thinking you can seduce your lovers with dishware.”

Aimeric smiled into the crook of his arm, wishing the servers at Eld could see the true seduction techniques that Jord and Nikandros actually employed. It was nothing like the romance novels of Lykaios’ dreams but...there was something so nice, so domestic about flirting over a set of dinner plates.

Nikandros’ hands slid lower and Aimeric actually heard the sound of something hitting the bottom of the sink. “Looks to me like it’s working.” Nikandros sounded smug as all hell.

“ _ Nidya _ ! Rika is  _ right there _ !” Jord hissed.

Part of Aimeric hoped that common sense would prevail and they would go touch each other somewhere else. The part of him in control of his lower half actually hoped that they would stay and give him something to dream about. Either way, his chest was going to ache.

“You have no sense of adventure.” Nikandros sighed after sucking hard on the lobe of Jord’s ear. Jord shuddered. “Fine, fine. I’ll take you to bed. Want me to carry you?”

“I-- _ fuck _ !” Nikandros did not give him time to decide, scooping Jord up before he had even dried his hands. “What about Rika?”

“Let him sleep; he must be exhausted. And I can always carry him to bed later.” Nikandros made compelling arguments when his hands were so gentle and his kisses unavoidable. Jord gave in and Nikandros’ shirt gained giant wet spots from Jord’s dripping forearms. 

Nikandros’ elbow hit the light switch, bathing the room in darkness, and Aimeric waited a few more minutes before getting up to go to his bedroom, his body shivering.

He heard...noises on his way back and he considered doing something very stupid. But he was too afraid of what might happen so...back to his room he went.

Aimeric fantasized for the first time in ages.

His ex boyfriends had always been quick about getting things started so Aimeric was always slow when he touched himself, sliding his hands down his stomach, tracing his hip bones. When the temptation grew too great to resist, he would lightly dig his fingernails into the flesh of his thighs until he got control of himself again. 

He craved control over the experience.

When he finally gripped his cock it was almost too much to bear.

His breath came out in ragged gasps and his back arched off the bed, just from a simple touch. He had to just lie still and hold himself for a long moment, just to become used to the sensation.

When he had the control again his imagination took over.

Nikandros was up behind him, running hands like sunlight down Aimeric’s chest and waist. His breath was even warmer than his hands from where it hit the side of Aimeric’s throat and his voice was huskier in Aimeric’s imagination. 

“Rika. You were watching us? You heard what we were doing?”

Aimeric bit his bottom lip, unwilling to admit it aloud.

“He should have come in.” Jord’s voice came to him next, light and sweet and--he imagined--near his hip. “We told you to be selfish, Rika. Be bold. You used to be so bold and now you’re shy? So sweet.” Nikandros’ hands were gentle as Jord lightly took the crest of Aimeric’s hip between his teeth. 

Aimeric could not even bear to tell the imaginary Jord and Nikandros that even his selfishness had limits. He was afraid that if he spoke, he would lose the illusion.

His hand moved when his mouth could not.

With the softest touch, he imagined Nikandros running a hot tongue around the crest of his ear, running the tips of his fingers under the firm curve of Aimeric’s cock. Jord was a little rougher, he imagined, as a free hand firmly twisted his nipples. He would like the feeling Nikandros’ braids falling over his shoulders, the rasp of Jord’s stubble against his thighs. 

Aimeric’s heels dug into the bed and bit the fabric of his pillowcase as his curls covered his entire face, making it hard to breathe. 

“Rika, Rika,” they called him like a siren’s song and he was helpless to them, even in his fantasies. 

A middle finger pushed up to him quickly, without warning and Aimeric gasped out, his jaw shaking as he tried not to cry out. He came with his knees pressed together, with the ghosts of Jord and Nikandros’ smiles hot on his skin. It took him a moment to catch his breath and let the sweat cool on his skin.

And he was alone again. 

He was alone in bed while Jord and Nikandros held each other, just like in his dreams. He hated himself for how lonely he felt, how much the feeling made him want to throw up.

Aimeric rubbed his face into his hair to soak up his hot stinging tears.

He could not live like this. 

Aimeric woke in the morning to the same empty feeling he had gone to sleep with.

He felt even more like shit when he came out of his room to find breakfast already made and Jord draped over Nikandros’ shoulders. Jord’s neck was more red and violet than white where Nikandros had clearly tried to suck out Jord’s blood through his skin. They both glowed from love and good exercise, the antithesis to Aimeric’s cold loneliness. 

Still, when Nikandros handed him his morning latte and sliced strawberries to go with his yogurt and Jord ruffled his curls, calling him a ‘fuzzy little thing’, Aimeric felt a breathless surge of affection for the both of them. It was so dangerous; how had he survived the little intimacies before without losing his mind? 

It was almost a curse that he was aware of it.

‘But...they’ll miss you,’ he heard Ancel’s voice, soft and confused.

He could only imagine...telling Jord and Nikandros that he loved them. 

Jord’s handsome face going white before he laughed nervously, glancing at Nikandros whose smile was all... _ pity _ . They’d thank him for his feelings, say they’d think about it, but...a few nights later Nikandros would ask him to move out. That it was all too awkward, too complicated. Maybe they’d say it was his trauma, the abuse, that he was  _ projecting _ and...and...the thoughts were a vortex in the pit of his stomach.

No wonder he normally settled for shitty men.

He wanted to be  _ loved _ . He wanted it so badly that the sweet coffee tasted like ash, that the strawberries were bitter.

“You alright, Rika?” Aimeric’s head jerked up as Nikandros leaned forward to brush the curls out of his eyes. “Are you feeling sick? You look tired and you haven’t eaten much.” His warm hand rested on Aimeric’s forehead and Aimeric leaned into the touch.

“I’m not sick...I’m just thinking…”

“Thinking about what?” Jord asked. 

“I-I’ve been thinking.” Aimeric tried to sound unaffected. “My mother, after we went to Fortaine, she let me know that my brothers were living up in Arles. I’ve been talking with them recently, thinking about my future, you know?”

“It’s never too early to start a retirement fund.” Jord nodded and Nikandros coughed back a laugh. They were so foolish, so dear; how did he ever think of them so disdainfully?

“No--it’s...I...I think...I’ve thought over it a lot these past few weeks and I think it would be better for me to go to Arles, to live with my brothers.” Aimeric said lightly, hoping that his voice would not crack. The dead silence that fell after this announcement almost shattered his resolve.

“Rika?” Jord sounded thunderstruck.

“ _ Why _ ?” Nikandros was next, his silverware clattering against his plates as he dropped them. “Is something wrong? Are you unhappy here?”

Aimeric looked at them, timing each of his blinks carefully. The first bit was the truth. “There’s so much history, bad history, for me in this city. I’m always worried I’ll run into one of my other exes and...I’ve relied on you both for too long. I think it would be good for me to live in Arles now and be close to my family again. I might even...be able to go back to school.”

What was left unspoken was the lie.

“You can go to school here.” Jord said, his smile a bit unsure. “I’m sure they offer classes that would work around your schedule at Eld.” Aimeric’s chest ached as he thought of Jord trying to make him stay. Nikandros just stared, watching Aimeric carefully.

“It’s always been my dream to live in Arles though.” Not his greatest dream any longer. “It’s not like you’ll never hear from me again.”

“But--”

“You really want this? Really?” Nikandros’ voice was low and flat, almost devoid of emotion. Aimeric had only ever known him to be passionate and filled with some strong feeling. 

No.

He didn’t want this.

He wanted to stay in Marlas. He wanted to work at Eld so that he could constantly banter with his coworkers and ignore their abject thirst in the work group chat. He wanted to go to the house parties that Lazar and Pallas or Damen and Laurent threw at least once a month. He wanted to stay with Nikandros and Jord. He wanted them to talk with him and touch him and treat him better than anyone else had ever treated him in his entire life. He wanted them to  _ love _ him. He wanted them to kiss him and hold his hands and pull him out of the guest room and into their giant bed. 

He wanted it so badly, it felt like a nail pushing in just below his breastbone.

Aimeric knew he had to leave before his self-control snapped and he did something stupid. He would never recover if they had to ask him to leave. So he would leave first and spare himself the pain.

“I really...really want this, Nikandros.” Aimeric lied.

For once, he hoped the man’s eagle eyes would fail him and he would not see the desperation roiling just underneath Aimeric’s veneer of ease. Aimeric wanted to run his fingers along the bare bits of scalp between Nikandros’ braids, like the way Jord often did.

“You’ve thought about this?” Jord asked, sounding distraught.

“My mother brought it up to me when we went to Fortaine and...I’ve been thinking about it ever since. It’s been long enough that I’ve taken advantage of your hospitality.”

“You haven’t--it’s no imposition to have you here!” Jord argued, sounding affronted. Aimeric couldn’t look at him. Instead he thought of the one thing he could say to convince them both to let him leave.

“I...want to be able to choose. I want that control over my life...for once.”

He looked at Nikandros, hoping that the man could see how serious he was. It had been a hard decision, to choose between crushing his heart in one fell swoop or let it waste away slowly.

Nikandros looked upset--at least Aimeric hoped he was upset--but it was clear he was wavering. “You really…? You really want this…”Aimeric tried not to let Nikandros’ tone give him hope. He almost gave in and told them both the real reason why he wanted to leave. It was hard to crush the hope.

A glint of gold brought him back to his senses.

Their matching necklaces. 

His breath was painful but he was good with pain. He could finally look at both Jord and Nikandros without cracking. “I want to move to Arles with my brothers.”


	15. In the Tide of His Breathing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a virtual work thing tomorrow so I was just like, fuck it! I'll post the new chapter today! I've made you all wait long enough though... there's no resolution this chapter haha just more of Aimeric, Jord, and Nik being stubborn and oblivious!  
> In other news, I am completely regretful that I did not put Damen and Auguste in this story more. I love writing this Auguste; he's so extra. Also everyone in their friend group has an ongoing bet as to who is going to snap first. Maybe that's why they're not meddling as much as they normally would haha!  
> I have 1 chapter left to write in this story and then it's DONE and I can move onto my next AU! Enjoy <3

**15\. In the Tide of His Breathing**

Word spread quickly in their friend group that Aimeric was planning to move to Arles and Aimeric was fairly sure that Laurent was to blame for pulling the truth out of Jord. Their entire group was meddlesome on the best of days and Aimeric was entirely unsurprised as everyone attempted to bribe, blackmail, and beg for him to stay in turns. He was also unsurprised when, one day, out of the blue, there was a cursory knock at the door before Laurent all but kicked it down, Auguste following cheerfully in his brother’s wake. 

“Rika! Nidya! Jord! We’re just dropping by.” Auguste said, kissing Aimeric full on the mouth, his cologne so fine that it made Aimeric dizzy. 

“Yeah, clearly.” Nikandros grumbled, sopping up the cup of water he had spilled out of surprise. “Thanks for the warning.”

“You would have locked the door if I told you I was coming over.” Laurent winked at him and Nikandros nodded as if that was exactly what he would have done. “Anyway, we have some important business to discuss with the three of you.” Aimeric had a sinking feeling as Laurent glanced at him sidelong.

However, he couldn’t focus on it for too long as Auguste sat on the couch, dragging Aimeric onto his lap. Jord stared at his friend, clearly unimpressed.

“Guska, do you  _ have  _ to?”

“Rika needs someone to flirt with him.” Auguste was unrepentant.

“You’re a playboy and I love you.” Laurent rolled his eyes at his brother. “Anyway, we want to have a party for Rika before he goes to Arles. Those parakeets at Eld have been bombarding me for the past week, all but demanding it. We want to know which day works for the three of you.”

“I like how it’s just a given that the party is happening.” Aimeric sighed, already dreading having to make an appearance. He was...bad at saying goodbye. He preferred to just run and avoid the pain.

“You’re more than welcome to try and stop them. And besides,” Laurent’s lovely face was cast with something like sadness, disappointment, “we’re all sad you’re leaving us. Let us have this at the very least.”

There was a lump in Aimeric’s throat as he tried to find something to say in the face of such a compelling and heartfelt argument. “I...ok…”

“Excellent.” Laurent smiled, the expression so dazzling that Nikandros squinted in feigned distaste. “Hekla has promised that she’ll close the restaurant next Tuesday so everyone can come. Damen and I will have it in our house, so no need to bring anything. Except wine. Can never have too much wine.”

“You’re a force of nature, Renochka.” Auguste laughed, his strong arms squeezing Aimeric carefully around his waist.

“Sounds good to me.” Jord said lightly, smiling at Nikandros, who nodded.

Aimeric held Auguste’s arms close around him as a familiar, sharp pain jabbed into the left side of his chest. Instead, he smiled at Laurent, trying to pretend as though nothing at all were amiss.

He had lost practice after a year, but he could still smile through the pain.

Even so, Laurent narrowed his eyes slightly.

Damen and Laurent lived in Sunastreo District, the nicest area in the city, and Aimeric was wholly unsurprised to enter their apartment to find what looked to be a luxury centerfold for fine Veretian decorating. Even though there were personal touches that showed people actually lived there, it only added to the charm and made Aimeric think that the couple likely beat their enemies to death with bags full of gold coins. 

Aimeric was still taking in the decor--specifically what looked to be a library through one of the doors, complete with an antique wrought-iron bookshelf ladder--when Laurent breezed out from the kitchen, looking effortlessly chic and relaxed. His smile was wide and easy, a little wicked when his gaze rested on Nikandros.

“Welcome to the viper pit.”

“Yeah, that’s how I’d describe this place,” Aimeric said, still in a daze, “a pit.” Nikandros coughed as Jord moved forward to help Laurent with the cheese and meats balanced in his wiry arms. Damen and Laurent’s  _ charcuterie _ ‘boards’ were twin rough-hewn tables, polished to a honey glow and laden with a rainbow spread of meat, cheese, olives, grapes, and navel oranges, crackers and hard breads tucked away almost like an afterthought.

_ Rich _ vipers. 

“Rika!” 

He was startled from his thoughts by the approach of Halvik, Hekla, Jokaste, and Pallas, Jokaste deftly handing him a heavy glass of beautiful yellowy wine as she kissed his cheeks. “Look at you, causing a ruckus again. I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you glaring at us from Nidya’s couch.”

“No more troublesome than some of the other little devils that work for me.” Hekla scoffed as she pushed the curls from Aimeric’s cheeks similar to how his mother would. “ _ Älskling _ if you ever want to come back to Marlas and you need a job, you let me know, yeah? I’ll keep a serving position open for you.”

“Thank you.” Aimeric said. “I don’t think any other workplace will be quite like Eld. I’ll miss it a lot.” It was the truth. Those catty servers had grown on him, despite his best efforts. 

“You’ll get your fill of them tonight.” Jokaste laughed. “I could  _ feel _ the entire restaurant drooling when Auguste sent out the invitations.” Aimeric nodded, sure that every server at Eld would love Auguste’s over-the-top flirtations. 

And he needed their rabid attention so that he could avoid Jord and Nikandros. 

They poured in like a tidal wave, spearheaded by Vannes and Talik, the former complimenting his appearance ‘san sand’. Despite the enormous size of Laurent and Damen’s apartment, they had enough friends that it was soon filled with most of the people Aimeric had come to know during his time staying with Nikandros and Jord. It was actually rather touching that they all cared enough about him to come and say goodbye, though the generous spread of alcohol was probably also a major selling point. 

Ancel crashed into his side, Aimeric’s wine only saved because Ancel snatched it from him and downed the entire thing. Berenger looked like he was going to say something but apparently realized it would fall on deaf ears. “Rika, by the end of the night you’re going to be drunk, staying in Marlas forever, or both.” 

“Going to be really hard if you keep drinking his wine.” Lazar laughed, flicking at Ancel’s chest. 

“It’s a shame we don’t have more.” Nikandros added, inclining towards the massive marble kitchen countertops which were completely covered in bottles of liquor. His smile hurt Aimeric physically. He felt it in his chest and suddenly he wanted the alcohol more than anything. 

He must have tensed because Ancel paused. “Or...maybe we should eat something first, yeah?”

He nodded, but neglected to mention that food had tasted like ashes and clay recently. He only ate because Nikandros would say something if he noticed and...he could not bear the thought of them caring.

Ancel must have sensed that Aimeric needed the distraction because he suctioned onto Aimeric’s elbow and only conceded to let go when Erasmus was free to be Aimeric’s companion. Ancel, not quite so fiery as normal, seemed to sense that something was wrong and kept him far from Nikandros and Jord for most of the night.

He let Pallas play with his hair as Pallas, Erasmus, and Isander plied him with food, Pallas lamenting how he would miss playing with Aimeric’s curls. He and Ancel played cards with Lazar, Jokaste, Kallias, and Laurent, the group of them so devious and-- Aimeric suspected--prone to cheating that he lost almost immediately and had to simply watch as Jokaste and Laurent exchanged subtle threats of bodily harm. Auguste and Kastor took turns dancing with him, the room spinning into a warm glow of orange light and laughter. It was a semi-good strategy at keeping his mind off of the pain.

Throughout it all there were two constants.

All of his friends begged him to reconsider, to stay with them in hopes of having him waver and he drank. He never stopped lifting his glass of wine and Erasmus was fantastic at keeping him filled up. Drunkenness was insidious as it crept up on him, not truly realizing how far he was gone until Erasmus asked him something.

“What do you want, Rika?” Erasmus sounded like he was speaking underwater. “You should probably eat something.”

Aimeric responded by kissing his freckled cheeks. He wanted Patran curry or white chocolate almond cake with cherry filling and mumbled something unintelligible.

“I’ll get you some crackers or bread.”

Erasmus went to get Aimeric more wine and crackers and Aimeric felt himself swaying even though he was standing still. Lost in his own thoughts, he jumped as someone touched the center of his back.

“Rika.” 

Aimeric felt sick. He had been trying so hard to avoid both Nikandros and Jord the entire night but a single encounter had him spiraling into breathless pain. He would have fallen backwards if Jord hadn’t been supporting him.

“Don’t Jord,” Aimeric slurred, trying to push away, though Jord cupped his forearms to keep him from falling. “Please don’t...I don’t want to…” He didn’t want to remember. Jord let him go though… he looked upset.

Aimeric stumbled so severely that he was not surprised when someone else took hold of him.

“You’re more than halfway to drunk.” Laurent said, tilting Aimeric’s chin so he couldn’t avoid that piercing blue gaze. “You’ll have a hell of a hangover if you keep this pace. Lover?” Damen appeared as if he had been waiting all his life for Laurent to call him over. Once hand slid up the nape of Laurent’s neck into his hair, fingers flexing lightly as Damen rubbed his scalp. “D-Damen. Will you get Aimeric one of those pills we ordered from Sicyon?”

“Of course. Can you walk, Aimeric?”

“I’ll help him.” Aimeric jolted as he heard a familiar accent, his half-drunken heart skipping when he thought it was Jord. It wasn’t; Lazar just had a very similar accent. 

Lazar took him by the waist, guiding Aimeric after Damen as the three of them wandered deeper into the recesses of Damen and Laurent’s massive apartment. One room he passed seemed to be a home gym, while the other was halfway painted a soft, pale shade of mint, a rocking chair set up in the corner. Aimeric wondered which one of them had made a deal with the devil to get such an apartment.

“Almost there.” Damen assured him. “We usually keep the tablets in the main bathroom but my Uncle Mak came by and...well he brought griva.” Lazar started laughing helplessly. “You know it fucks Laurent up.”

Any further questions Aimeric had about Laurent were silenced when the three of them arrived at Damen and Laurent’s bedroom. 

With its tall ceilings, walls the color of cream, and floors like polished honey, the room radiated the combined warmth and elegance of Damen and Laurent. It smelled like the sea and cologne and sex appeal and, naturally, the silk and linen sheets on the massive bed were casually mussed as if Damen and Laurent had been fucking only moments before the party began. Aimeric recognized a dried bunch of lavender artfully arranged in a vase on the nightstand and he felt a lump growing in his throat as he thought of picking lavender with Jord and Nikandros. 

It seemed like an age ago.

“Let me go find the pills.” Damen said, disappearing into the en suite bathroom and emerging triumphantly with a packet of them a moment later. Lazar caught them deftly and popped one out for Aimeric. “Don’t chew it; they’re dreadful bitter.”

“This is the most enormous bed I’ve ever seen in my life.” Aimeric said in disbelief after he swallowed. It would probably fit their entire friend group comfortably.

“Damya needs all this room for his giant cock.” Lazar added unhelpfully. 

“Shut the fuck up Lazar.” Damen sighed, though Aimeric noticed he didn’t deny it. “You’re banned from entering our room.”

“I haven’t done anything!” Lazar protested, his laughter indicating that he had thought about doing something that would only lead to getting his ass kicked. With Damen at the helm, it would be a brutal and unmitigated ass beating.

“It’s preemptive. I know if I let you in, I’ll catch you sniffing Laurent’s underwear or some shit like that.”

“If you’re jealous, I’ll smell yours too.” Lazar laughed. “Equal opportunity, Damya.”

“ _ Out _ .” Damen shook his head as Lazar left and ran a hand through his thick mass of dark curls. “Sometimes I need a break from all the madness you Veretians bring. And Laurent said you looked like you needed a break too. You doing ok?”

Though Aimeric had never spoken much to Damen, there was something about the man that inspired good humor and confidence. Maybe it was that he was always smiling and sunny, or that he was so enormous that there was not a problem on earth he couldn’t destroy with his bare hands. Also Aimeric was incredibly tipsy and he tried to think of where to start.

“Is it Nik?” Damen offered. 

“What makes you say that?” Aimeric asked, in shock over the half-correct guess. He had pegged Damen as the fiery type, able to beat the ever-loving hell out of him with a single fist; Aimeric hadn’t ever thought Damen was the type to be so perceptive. Though maybe Laurent had rubbed off on him.

“He’s my best friend; has been since we were kids. We can both kind of sense when the other is causing problems.”

“It’s me, I...I just want to run away from everything. It’s all too much.”

“Mmm...ok. Sometimes running away is good. But maybe not as a habit. Is it...something they did? Or something they said?” His eyes were so warm and friendly, Aimeric could see how even Laurent might be helpless to them. Though he did not know the man well, he seemed trustworthy and kind; the type of man who would protect a secret. 

“They’re so kind, so nice to me. I don’t know how to handle it. Sometimes...I think it would be easier if Nikandros and Jord just…” it felt like a betrayal, ugly and dark, but it was his honest feeling and he was tipsy, “if they just  _ hit _ me. I would understand that.”

“Ohhhhh my gods.” Damen groaned, rubbing at his temples. “This is above my pay grade.”

“You asked. Asshole.”

“I beg you, when you get to Arles, contact my Laurent. He knows several good therapists up there.” Damen said with complete and utter sincerity. “They wouldn’t hit you. It’s not in their nature.”

“I know, I’m...fucked up.” Aimeric laughed, hoping that his slight drunkenness covered up how hollow the laugh felt.

“It’s hardly surprising. Most Veretians are and they haven’t been bashed up half as many times as you.” He seemed shocked at the words as they were leaving his mouth, his dark eyes growing wide in horror. Aimeric laughed at his forthrightness, and his subsequent shock at his own inability to keep his thoughts to himself. Damen softened a little. “Why don’t you just tell them? It’s clear as day to everyone, except you three apparently.” Aimeric froze, his shoulders tensing as he looked up at Damen. “Oh, what wide eyes you have.”

Aimeric was so terrified in that moment; someone  _ knew _ , Damen knew how he felt and the words spilled out of his mouth before he could help himself. “N-no! They have each other. There’s no room...there’s no…” he gripped Damen’s shirt with shaking hands, “You can’t say  _ anything _ . Please,  _ please _ . I’ll...I’ll never recover if they don’t...if I have to go through that pain...I’ll never recover.”

He had gotten so used to kindness and sweetness that any cruelty would break him apart. Like a jagged bit of glass, he had been smoothed by the endless tide of their care. He had lost his shell, years of protection he had built up, and he was as vulnerable as if his heart had been outside of his body. Jord and Nikandros could completely and utterly destroy him in a way his exes never could.

Damen patted his shoulder, his hand pleasantly warm and heavy. For a split second Aimeric thought of how nice it must be for Laurent to be held by the behemoth of an Akielon, a wall against the outside world, with warmth and comfort seeping from his skin. He made a clicking noise with his tongue that Nikandros often made when he was frustrated, a distinctly Akielon noise. “See? You don’t want them to hit you. You all are just...so damn cautious. You have to take a risk if you lo--if your feelings are that strong. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Easier to take risks when you’re seven feet tall.” Aimeric slurred unhelpfully. “When no one could ever h-hit you. I’m a...a coward.”

Damen laughed, his cheek dimpling deep. “Tell that to Nik! Well, the fights were when we were stupid little kids. Now he just lectures me. Anyways, you’re not a coward. No coward would fight so hard to keep himself safe. Even if you are foolish. And a Veretian brat.” 

Jord had also lovingly called him foolish before, Nikandros smiling when he said Aimeric was a brat. Even their ‘insults’ were soft and gentle.

“Damn you overthinking Veretians.” Damen sighed when it was clear Aimeric was not going to give him the answer he wanted. “It’s clear that none of you are going to do a thing until it’s too late. Well…” He ran one hand through his mess of hair again, the tattoos on his arms seeming to move; quite unlike Jord’s messy ponytail or Nikandros’ lines of braids, his thick mass of curls wouldn’t look as good if he attempted to tame them. It could have also been the alcohol and long run of abstinence, making him so aware. “Listen. Even if you move up to Arles and regret it, if you want to come back, it won’t be too late for you. If you ever want to come back to Marlas, you let my Laurent know. We’ll drive up that night and come get you, okay?”

There was a lump in Aimeric’s throat just thinking of it. “I love how I haven’t even left yet and people are already trying to convince me to move back.”

“You fit in so well.” Damen said easily. “We have a habit of picking up people, bringing in friends and then it feels like we’ve been friends for years. It’s going to feel very empty without you. Promise me Aimeric. If you hate it up there and miss us here, you tell Laurent.”

He was a man who couldn’t be refused. “I-I promise.”

“Good.” Damen smiled and sighed as he stood up. “Back out into the fray we go.”

Aimeric did feel better, less drunk, although his stomach was still churning as Damen rested one heavy hand on the center of Aimeric’s back. Hekla and Ancel and Laurent and Damen were all trying to give him an opportunity to come back to Marlas and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It was making him waver.

Pallas and Erasmus ran out to meet the two of them the moment they emerged, Erasmus bearing one of those fresh, pressed juices that Laurent always favored. Erasmus’ amber eyes were intense as he watched Aimeric sip.

“Feel better?” Pallas asked, slurring a little bit himself.

Aimeric looked around the party at all the people who loved him and would miss him when he left. 

He was drawn to them, in spite of himself. 

Jord and Berenger were listening as Ancel talked and gesticulated wildly. With his long, red hair loose and free of its usual constraints, he looked even more like a fire demon than usual. Jord was smiling though it looked strained, and Aimeric wanted to walk over and rub the tension out of Jord’s jaw. He almost laughed when he found Nikandros next, the man looking like he was sucking on every lemon on earth, since Laurent had cornered him and was explaining something with such passion that Nikandros could not get a word in edgewise. He looked miserable and Aimeric desperately wanted to tease him about it. He loved them both and the twist of sickness returned to his stomach with a force. Maybe it had never been the alcohol to begin with.

Erasmus and Pallas’ smiles faltered at Aimeric’s expression and he stretched his mouth into an approximation of a reassuring smile. 

“Much better.” 


	16. It’s Worth It, It’s Divine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist.   
> Technically it's Thursday and after so much angst last week I wanted to get this chapter out ASAP! As a bonus, I'm giving you all a rare Nikandros POV in the 2nd half of the chapter as well as Jord actually living up to his Veretian roots haha!  
> I love you all and I hope you enjoy!

**16\. It’s Worth It, It’s Divine**

Aimeric’s brothers bought him a bus ticket at the very end of the month on a day when neither Jord or Nikandros were scheduled to work. Aimeric had considered choosing a day and time when they were both scheduled to work, but he knew the both of them well enough to know that they would take a day off before they’d let him go off alone, slip away to Arles without looking back. It would hurt to see them fade into the distance but…

He couldn’t dwell on it or he’d waver.

It was too late to change his mind.

Though the servers from Eld had wanted to come see him off as well, Ancel had had to get one final annoyance in and convinced the entire group to let Aimeric leave with only Jord and Nikandros to see him off. Aimeric wasn’t sure if he loved or hated the meddlesome redhead for it. 

‘ _ But...they’ll miss you. _ ’

Aimeric shook his head and continued to pack.

Even after so long living with Jord and Nikandros, all of Aimeric’s meager belongings could fit into two full-sized suitcases, a duffel bag, and a backpack. The only thing that could not be stored in the bus was his bike, and Jord had promised to ship it to him once he arrived in Arles.

“Save your money, Rika. You wouldn’t let us buy your bus ticket. Let me at least do this for you.” He had rubbed the center of Aimeric’s back and Aimeric felt a lump in his throat. Thanks to Jord and Nikandros’ proclivity to pay for most things aside from his metro pass, Aimeric had managed to amass a decent amount of savings in the time that he lived with them. But...

He would have bought his bus ticket himself before he would let Jord or Nikandros pay for him. He didn’t want to feel like they were paying for him to leave. His heart would break.

When he looked at the paltry contents of his life, he felt a rush of loathing for himself. All this time with them and he had not even made a mark. The guest bedroom bore no traces of him, looking the same as when he had first come to their house so long ago. His presence would be gone, wiped clean just as quickly. It was just another homely little guest bedroom and he was...

_ Useless. A bitch. Shameful. Pitiful. Lonely… so fucking lonely… _

“Rika?”

Aimeric’s breath hitched as he saw Nikandros leaning against the door, with his small braids sectioned into three parts and braided together, a fresh coat of black polish on his fingers, dark, tattooed arms bare. He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“The cab is here. You ready? Jord and I can take your stuff downstairs.”

Aimeric nodded. Too late to back out now. 

As Jord and Nikandros silently took his luggage from his room, he recalled the first time they had brought him to their home and how reluctant he had been, how he had been so sour about it. He wished they would order him not to go, tie him to the bed, threaten him until he wouldn’t go out, comfortable in the cage of an apartment, take his money so he couldn’t survive without them.

But they wouldn’t. They were good men who would never hurt him. 

_ Temporarily _ , Nikandros’ words haunted him. Time was up.

It was a silent cab ride to the Marlas Main Bus Terminal, the sight of it making Aimeric feel sick. Maybe it was his own projections but it seemed as though the sidewalks next to the gleaming line of buses was populated with nothing but couples, embracing and kissing and promising to return as soon as they could. 

There would always be a place for him at Eld. Laurent and Damen would come pick him up, drive to Arles. Pallas or Ancel would be happy to have him stay with them.

But everything was useless if Jord and Nikandros didn’t--

“This is me.” He said lightly, his voice sounding strained. He didn’t know what he hoped for: a cool sterile goodbye or hugs and tears? Both would destroy him.

Jord embraced him roughly, squeezing him close and Aimeric closed his eyes. The last time he’d ever hug Jord, feel his wiry arms, smell the mix of coffee and cologne on his skin. “Be safe, Rika. Text us when you get to your brother’s house ok? If you don’t, Nidya and I are going to have to drive up there to find you. No stops along the way, I promise.”

Aimeric nodded as he pulled back, shaking a little as Jord smoothed the curls from his eyes. Who would pull his wild curls back when Jord was gone?

He truly thought he would vomit when it was Nikandros’ turn.

That punk nurse, with his black fingernails and strong arms and sharp, black eyes; everything had started with Nikandros. 

Aimeric wanted to cling to him as Nikandros squeezed him, his deep voice right next to Aimeric’s ear.

“You know me. I’m going to worry. If you get into any trouble, let me know. And if you start--” He trailed off, his arms squeezing a little tighter around Aimeric’s back. “It’s going to be pretty quiet without you around causing hell. If I hear anyone in Arles is giving you trouble, I’m going to send Ancel and Laurent up to deal with them.”

“A fate worse than death.” Aimeric tried to joke. How could he feel safe without having Nikandros so close at hand?

“Ah, who am I kidding? Jord and I would drop everything to come up and help you.” Nikandros pulled back so he could get a good look at Aimeric’s face. “I’ll miss you, you brat.” The wind was almost knocked from Nikandros as Aimeric slammed close to his chest; he was wavering and he had to hide his face before his expression crumpled into helplessness. “Oh Aimeric…”

Aimeric did not recall who broke the embrace first; he had entered a fugue state of his own helplessness and did not come to his senses until he was standing in line to board the bus. He spared one last glance to Nikandros and Jord, noticing that the two of them were watching him go, Jord pressed tight against Nikandros’ flank.

It hurt like the devil. He wondered if it would ever stop hurting.

_ Stop me, stop me, tell me not to go _ , he almost turned around and screamed it but the person behind him was clearly in a hurry to board, almost shouldering Aimeric on board. He found his assigned seat in a daze, too shaky to look out the window and potentially see them disappear into the distance.

He didn’t know what he was waiting for. Proof? A sign? A rush of courage? For Nikandros and Jord to...to…

Tears fell liberally as the bus rumbled to a start, pulling away from the curb with a jolt. Aimeric, always running away until it hurt more. Well, he hurt, he fucking hurt like a bare wire, an open wound, a fucking mess who collapsed outside 24 hour clinics and…

Fell in love with all the wrong people.

He cried silently, his head pressed into the scratchy fabric of the bus seat as the bus drove on and he felt his phone buzzing insistently in his pocket.

Aimeric answered purely out of surprise. “Hello?”

“Rika.” His voice was honey and gold, all unstoppable charm.

“I never expected to hear from...from  _ you _ , of all people.”

“Oh Rika. I had to. You still owe me a favor, remember?”

Nikandros and Jord had watched the bus drive away until it had turned down a side street, taking Aimeric with it. Nikandros watched, unblinkingly, his thumb rubbing tender circles in the soft skin of Jord’s neck, hoping to soothe him. It didn’t seem to be working for either of them and neither one broke the silence for some time.

“Jord, love. Let’s go to a cafe. We haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.” Typical Akielon, Nikandros liked to try and solve most unpleasant situations with food though...nothing sounded very good to him at the moment. He mostly just wanted Jord to stop looking at the streets with desperate hope.

“This for real, Nidya.” Jord breathed as he processed Nikandros’ suggestion. “I keep thinking that he’ll come back. That they’ll bring him back.”

Nikandros felt helpless in the face of Jord’s sorrow and simply kissed his temple. “Me too. Come on...let’s...let’s go.”

They took a cab back to their favorite Patran cafe in the Olbos District, a light rain starting almost immediately after they entered the cozy little spot. It was a fool’s errand.

While Nikandros found most Veretian silver tongues irritating in large doses, he had always loved that he could talk with Jord for hours and find the man nothing but charming and funny. He could usually rely on Jord for wonderful conversation but...not today. As the rain picked up, they sat in silence in the cafe, not even touching the tea and honey pastries they’d ordered.

Unspoken, Rika’s beloved face haunted the both of them.

“He wanted to go.” Jord murmured. “He wanted to leave us.”

Nikandros squeezed his hand. “Let’s go. This isn’t helping us.”

Borrowing an umbrella from the cafe, they started walking the two blocks back to their apartment, lost in thought. Thinking about how they loved pretty, witty Aimeric with his sharp tongue and soft eyes and wild hair. 

By the time they were getting used to his prickly nature, they had already begun to like him; by the time they realized they quite liked him, they were already falling in love with him. They were both in too deep before they’d even realized anything had begun. In love with Aimeric and…

...now he was gone and it hurt so fucking badly.

Nikandros knew the pain would dissipate with time but it still hurt and he let it wash over him as he rested his head on the top of Jord’s head. It just wasn’t meant to be--

“ _ Nidya _ .” Jord’s voice was a gasp, his arm clutching Nikandros’ forearm with a grip that indicated he would have collapsed to his knees otherwise. Nikandros looked to his love, concerned, but Jord did not even glance at him, his hazel gaze fixed firmly ahead. “Oh gods…”

Nikandros followed his gaze and he understood Jord’s reaction.

There was a familiar figure sitting on the front stoop of their apartment, uncaring that the rain was soaking him through, his clothes plastered to his slim body. Nikandros felt him like a pulse, aware of his every move. He’d had a sneaking suspicion it was the same for Aimeric, especially when he looked up at them, his sweet, dark eyes even wider than normal. 

Aimeric’s dark curls were stuck to his cheeks, rain almost obscuring the fact that he was crying. A little sea serpent, filled with salt, Jord had secretly called him--Nikandros was still getting used to the idea that Veretians looked on venomous snakes with the most overt fondness. It was astonishing how someone could be so lovely through snot and tears.

When he stood, Nikandros finally realized that it wasn’t an illusion and he felt the air leave his lungs like a hit to the solar plexus. 

Aimeric wasn’t on his way to Arles. He was here. He had come back.

Aimeric ran up to them, his running form perfect, as always and he looked as though he was going to crash into them. Jord and Nikandros both stretched out their arms to catch him; Nikandros heard Jord gasp softly and understood the reaction as he too was still in disbelief that Aimeric was real and  _ here _ . 

“Rika!” Jord gasped. “What are--”

“Is everything ok?” Nikandros asked.

“How did you get back here?”

“I ran. Almost six kilometers.” Aimeric sniffed. “I left all my stuff in the bus and I ran back.”

“Why?” Nikandros asked. A thousand terrible situations jumped to mind and he scanned Aimeric carefully for any injuries. “Is everything ok?”

“No-o!” Aimeric’s voice cracked, he was so upset, and it broke Nikandros’ heart. “No, I got a call and-- and I kept thinking, I kept going over everything in my mind and I couldn’t t-take it anymore!”

“Breathe, Rika.” Jord soothed him, moving his free hand up to cup Aimeric’s jaw. 

“What were you thinking about?” Nikandros held him steady.

“ _ Everything _ !” His eyelashes looked even longer and darker when wet, and Nikandros brushed them with his thumb as he tried to wipe some of the tears away. “You both, my friends, my family, my exes!” 

Nikandros remembered the second time in the clinic when Aimeric had cried and his emotions had come out in quick, passionate words. He sensed it was coming again and just...waited.

“It was wrong!” Aimeric cried, gripping their arms closer to him. “It was wrong what they all did to me! But I couldn’t help it; I thought I loved them, I thought they loved me. So when...when I loved you both...I-I didn’t know what to do!” Nikandros exhaled shakily, fighting a losing battle of wiping Aimeric’s face dry; so caught up, he almost missed that Aimeric loved him, loved them. “And you were right! You were fucking right when you first met me: a lot of times I go back! It’s comfortable and normal for me and it’s hard to break free! It’s all I know!” Nikandros recognized Jord’s words from the first night Aimeric had come to live with them and wondered through his elation how those words must have haunted Aimeric. His tears flowed freely, his voice high and desperate with emotion. “So here I am! I came back j-just like you said I would! Because I l-love you both and I’m never in pain with you b-but it hurts to try and leave. I l-love you and I d-don’t want to leave!”

Jord moved first, always weak to tears. 

Aimeric sobbed, his fingers gripping big handfuls of Jord’s sweater as Jord dug his hands into Aimeric’s wet hair. Nikandros watched them, measuring his heartbeats. Ever since Aimeric had said he was scared of Nikandros’ fire, Nikandros had made every effort to be careful, to be calm and gentle.

“You don’t have to leave!” Jord was soaking through as well, his hands sliding across Aimeric’s cheeks. “Rika you can stay. We  _ want _ you to stay. We  _ love _ you.” Aimeric looked up at Jord as though he would start sobbing again and Nikandros saw that subtle clench in Jord’s jaw; something he did unthinkingly when he was going to do something bold. 

Nikandros was wholly unsurprised when Jord kissed Aimeric’s pretty, open mouth.

Hell, they had both been thinking about it for ages.

They had talked about it in bed, kissing each other, wondering if kisses would mellow Aimeric’s bittersweet nature, making him blush, make his wide, sweet eyes even wider. It seemed to be working just how Nikandros had imagined, though it was something else to see Aimeric sob while he kissed Jord. 

“N-Nidya!” 

Aimeric had no idea how weak Nikandros was to that nickname. He had dreamt endlessly of feeling Aimeric crying ‘Nidya’ with his lips on Aimeric’s throat. He would have given Aimeric anything if Aimeric turned that wide gaze on him and called him ‘Nidya’.

“N-Nidya, y-you too?” The tears helped.

Nikandros took Aimeric behind his ears and kissed his half-open mouth with the passion that had been building up inside him for months. The kiss tasted like tears and rain, Nikandros slipping his tongue past Aimeric’s lips when the young man gently gripped the bits of his braids closest to his skull. He tilted Aimeric’s face for a more intimate angle, feeling him slump a little in Jord’s arms. The possessive part of Nikandros liked to think that Aimeric had never been kissed half so well in his life.

Nikandros wished he hadn’t taken out his tongue piercing a few years before. He would have loved to feel it slide along the smooth bits of Aimeric, feel the young man jolt as it bumped against his teeth.

“For fuck’s sake, go inside! It’s raining!” 

Aimeric startled, gasping for air as he pulled back, and Nikandros shot a glare and an extended middle finger to the car that heckled them as they passed. Still...they made a good point. 

“Let’s go inside. We’ll deal with the luggage situation later.”

He wanted to carry Aimeric--he  _ liked _ carrying Aimeric--but Aimeric was clutching one of Jord’s arms tight, his other hand holding Nikandros’ hand. He wanted to be close to the both of them. Aimeric was still crying a little as they reached the entryway to the apartment, the tears lost amongst all the other puddles of water on the ground. Nikandros shucked his shirt and pants off in the entryway, feeling Aimeric’s gaze acutely as Jord did the same.

“Rika, you’ll get cold. Strip down and we’ll get you some dry clothes.”

“Your clothes will fit him better.” Nikandros said quickly and he caught Jord’s smirk; he knew Nikandros liked seeing his lovers wear his clothes. The first time Jord had picked out one of his old concert t-shirts, he had only gotten to wear it for five minutes before Nikandros had ‘helped’ him out of it.

Half naked, the three of them crossed the apartment into Jord and Nikandros’ room. Jord went for the dry clothes while Nikandros got towels from the linen closet, one going around his neck immediately. Another was thrown over Aimeric’s head and Nikandros began rubbing it back and forth to sop up the moisture; he and Jord both liked Aimeric’s curls when they were dry and wild. He tried not to look down at Aimeric’s pale, bare torso.  _ Pretty _ . Slim and toned from running and swimming and biking. 

“Once we dry off, let’s talk, yeah?” Nikandros was pleased that Aimeric’s crying had tapered off to sniffling. “Thanks, love.” He added on as Jord handed him a dry tank top and pair of boxers.

Aimeric was given one of Nikandros’ concert tees, the shirt barely coming down to mid-thigh and Nikandros’ throat felt hot and dry as Aimeric slid his wet underwear down his legs.  _ Damn those wicked Veretians _ . When he glanced over at Jord, his lover was smiling to himself. Despite how well he hid it, he was Veretian, through and through.

“Crafty.” Nikandros hissed in Akielon.

“Sit down, Rika. Rest.” Jord insisted gently and then grinned to himself again as the shirt slid higher on Aimeric’s thighs, drawing Nikandros’ eye.  _ Fucking Veretians _ … Jord was dressed first, sitting next to Aimeric on the bed, holding his hand. “You love us?”

Aimeric’s expression crumpled and he buried his face in the towel. “I-I do. I love you. Both of you.”

Nikandros felt strangely irritated as he put on his clothes; he didn’t like that Aimeric was upset and immediately thought of ways to change it. “Perfect. We’ve established out on the street that we love you too. Thank the gods above for that as well. We...we always hoped but…” They had always assumed it was a risk to invite someone as fragile as Aimeric into an already established relationship. Jord would never push him and Nikandros was terrified of frightening him. “Now none of us have to pretend anymore.”

“B-But!” Aimeric’s lovely eyes darted from Nikandros to Jord in turns. He had become so incomparably dear once Nikandros and Jord had realized that his sharpness was all for show. That he was sweet and curious and desperately in need of love. Nikandros could anticipate all of his terrible arguments against it. “But there’s no room. There’s…” 

“I have two arms right?” Nikandros opened them both, “One for each of you.”

“We can always call Laurent and Damen. Ask them where they got their giant-ass bed.” Jord suggested, laughing at Nikandros’ grimace. “Though you might have to sleep on top of us for a little while.”

“ _ What _ a tragedy.” Nikandros said, his heart racing at the thought.

“B-But I--”

“Nikandros, he’s delirious; only one way to cure it.” Jord sighed.

“Lazar method, got it.” 

Before Aimeric could think to ask what the method entailed, Nikandros moved forward in two quick steps and held Aimeric’s face lightly in his hands. He and Jord took turns. 

Any excuses of Aimeric’s faded to insignificance as they kissed him in turns. Whoever’s mouth was free countered all of Aimeric’s arguments with the feelings that had been building up inside of Jord and Nikandros for months, the things they had longed to say but never could.

_ Rika, we love you. We love you Rika. We’ll always make room for you. We’ve loved you for a while now. We adore you. We love your fight and fire. We love how sweet you are. We love your scars. We want you to stay with us, Rika. We love you. We  _ love  _ you _ .

They kissed him and confessed until they felt Aimeric smile as he kissed them back.

“You love me.” He whispered, finally accepting it. “You both really love me.”

It was no longer a question.


	17. I’m His and He is Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I prefer posting at night, my time so I can wake up and see what people think ;) I hate waking up but...the comments make it all worth it haha!  
> So typical Veretians, gotta get slutty the moment after a confession. For some reason my vibe with Aimeric is that he would do so, SO well in a healthy BDSM relationship. He'd be the brattiest, saltiest sub in existence but he'd secretly love being dominated, I just feel it in my bones. You can kind of see it with Nik and Jord here; they like to gently tease him until he's a little dripping mess.  
> Also, added some little fun tidbits for you all: figuring out who 'blackmailed' Aimeric off that bus, Jord showcasing again that he is Veretian through-and-through, and FINALLY the foolish but honestly understandable reason that Nikandros has such a vendetta against Laurent haha!  
> Only one chapter left after this!

**17\. I’m His and He is Mine**

Jord and Nikandros were even more attractive than any sultry fantasy he could have dreamt up in the privacy of his room.

It was the little things that he savored as he could not have imagined them. 

Jord, long and lean, with a spattering of umber freckles across his hips and shoulders. The thatch of hair between his legs was somewhere between the color of brown and auburn, a tiny crescent scar on one of his knees. Aimeric wanted to kiss them all: the freckles, the scar, the spot between Jord’s legs.

Nikandros had shed his boxers to reveal that his skin was the same, even, beautiful shade of brown, an ouroboros tattoo previously unseen on the inside of his muscular left thigh. The muscles of his ass quivered attractively whenever he moved--really his whole body was like a statue in an art museum and Aimeric’s mouth ached as he tried to think about how it would be possible to fit Nikandros’ cock in his mouth.

Skinny and scarred, Aimeric was hesitant to shed his clothes. It shouldn’t have mattered; they had seen him naked so many times before. 

But he was not truly prepared for what they had in store for him. 

“Rika, you’re melting.” Jord said in a way that made Aimeric think they wanted to see him melt into the bedspread. 

Aimeric couldn’t help himself as he lightly bit Jord’s forearm, saliva and tears mingling in a shimmering stream down his cheeks and Jord’s arm from where it was firm against his collarbone. Jord’s other hand was in his hair, petting the curls, and keeping him steady as he cried, helplessly. He had cried enough to last him a year and yet they kept--

Nikandros’ long, warm fingers did something clever and Aimeric whined into Jord’s skin, his hips bouncing helplessly.

He didn’t remember specifically when he had stripped off his clothes, so desperate for intimacy that he decided to do the classy, Veretian thing and sleep with them immediately. But somehow his plan to suck off both Jord and Nikandros had gone awry and he had somehow found himself lying on Jord’s bare lap while Nikandros had popped the cap off of a very expensive bottle of lubricant and was now carefully stretching Aimeric open. 

He wanted to argue but...it had been ages since he’d had sex.

“So pretty. So sweet. Oh Aimeric, you’re just precious, aren’t you? Cry all you want, Rika.” Jord’s voice was thick as he buried his cheek in Aimeric’s hair, his hand moving down to rub a firm circle on Aimeric’s nipple. “Oh you’re lovely even when you cry.” 

Aimeric was so overwhelmed, crying was all he could do. 

“Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think, love?” Nikandros asked.

“Nidya, you Akielon fool. Rika has a praise kink, don’t you?” He rubbed Aimeric’s wet cheeks as Aimeric fought to remember if he had even been complimented so much to develop a taste for it. Maybe the lack of it in his life was what made it so nice. “I can tell. Just pause for a second.” Nikandros’ fingers stilled inside of Aimeric as Jord leaned down and nipped lightly at the crest of Aimeric’s ear. “You’re so good. Very good, aren’t you Rika? You’re  _ beautiful _ and sweet and all we’ve ever wanted. I can’t wait to kiss your sweet pink--” He didn’t even need to finish his sentence before Aimeric bit down a little harder on Jord’s arm, crying from embarrassment as he felt his insides tense tightly around Nikandros’ fingers. Praise kink it was, then. 

“Holy gods,” Nikandros breathed like he had swallowed a hot stone, “How did you figure that out?”

“Veretian intuition.”

“You all are just natural sluts.” Nikandros said lovingly; Aimeric felt a kiss on the curve of his ass. “Don’t stop on my account, love.” 

Jord continued to murmur a continuous stream of sweetness into Aimeric’s neck, his hands going through Aimeric’s hair and over his nipples as Nikandros continued to expertly rub inside of him. His warm, slick fingers finally hit a spot inside Aimeric that made his hips wind in circles, his toes digging hard into the side of the mattress. When Nikandros rubbed harder, Aimeric felt himself babbling, his fingers clawing at Jord’s legs. It felt so damn good.

“Found it.” Nikandros almost sounded like he was singing, he was so pleased.

“I told you, you’re better at it Nidya. Oh, look at my battle scars.”

Aimeric realized he had left long red scratches on Jord’s bare thighs, a mixture of saliva and tears also running down Jord’s leg onto the bedspread. “I’m sorry--I’m sorry, it m-must hurt!”

“It’s ok, sweet thing. Scratch me up all you like.” Jord wiped Aimeric’s cheeks with his palms. Still, Aimeric felt a twinge of guilt over hurting someone he loved and he leaned down to kiss the scratches with shaking lips. “Nidya, he’s  _ killing _ me.” Jord groaned, his dick hardening to the point where it brushed against Aimeric’s chest.

“Just let us spoil you.” Nikandros ordered softly and Aimeric shuddered as he felt long braids brush against his back.

He did not even get a chance to catch his breath after the kisses. 

A third finger slid inside of him and his cry was desperate as he was hit with pleasure that made the inner muscles of his thighs tremble. He wanted...it was never anything he had experienced unless his hands were between his legs. He was frightened of the sensation and also didn’t want it to stop. 

“ _ Nikandros _ ! Nikandros,  _ please _ !” His fingers were still clawed and shaking as he reached behind him. Nikandros’ fingers linked through his. 

“Call me ‘Nidya’.” It was almost a plea, more so than an order, and it sounded almost like Nikandros was speaking while salivating. “Rika, call me ‘Nidya’ and I’ll do anything you want.” 

Aimeric obliged, alternating between calling for Jord and Nikandros as he rode out his first orgasm without having touched his dick. It felt like falling, flying, dying...but he never worried.

Jord and Nikandros would catch him. 

He felt himself salivating from the corner of his mouth; it had been so long since he’d been touched by someone else and he’d forgotten how good it felt. Jord’s wiry arms kept him from collapsing face first onto the damp sheets and Nikandros kept touching him, rubbing him until he was milked dry. He shuddered as Nikandros withdrew his fingers and murmured obvious praise in Akielon. A warm finger traced the length of his cock and the sensation made him cum a little again.

“Good Rika?” Nikandros asked. “That was the first time, yeah?”

Aimeric could only moan.

He wanted it again, over and over until his ass went numb. He was also so content that he wanted to curl up and sleep. His head lolled on Jord’s bare lap and he let his tongue brush lazily against whatever was in reach. Jord inhaled sharply, pushing the curls from Aimeric’s face. Aimeric was sure he looked like a dripping mess but by the gods, if he wasn’t good at giving head.

“Ahh Nidya, he’s  _ torturing  _ me.” Jord gasped. Aimeric kept waiting for the fingers to fist in his curls and guide his head down to the hilt, but Jord’s fingers were unerringly gentle. He swept the wet curls from Aimeric’s forehead and the back of his neck, cooling Aimeric off. “I want to keep him here but also...I want Rika to feel good too.”

“Can’t have torture on the first time lovemaking.” Nikandros said; clearly an Akielon for the fact that he used the word ‘lovemaking’. “Sets a bad precedent. Come here, sweet thing.”

Despite his exhaustion, Aimeric was overcome with the urge to be an unhelpful brat and refused to move. He relished Jord’s laugh and the soft grumble of annoyance from Nikandros.

Still Aimeric didn’t fight it; he was limp and boneless as warm hands cupped under his armpits and dragged him across the bed. Nikandros’ chest was about three times warmer than Jord’s and his words were just as sugary. 

“Nidya...the sheets.”

“Fuck the sheets. I’ll buy new ones.” 

“R-rotten rich boy.” Aimeric groaned as Jord rubbed a thumb between his legs. “Ah, ah! I...c-came already.”

Nikandros sounded both proud and smug. “I knew you could do it, Rika. You have no emotional or mental block. Nothing’s wrong with you; I knew there was nothing wrong with you.” Aimeric simply nuzzled his face into Nikandros’ chest, soothed by the warmth and the deep tone of his voice.

“Don’t...s-sound so smug.” 

Aimeric wanted to see Nikandros with his head thrown back, the warm curve of his cock tracing the length of Aimeric’s throat. He opened his mouth in preparation to lean down but Nikandros must have anticipated his plans. 

Nikandros kissed him hard, his hands holding Aimeric’s cheeks, fingers pinching at Aimeric’s earlobes. “Let us spoil you for god’s sake. Are all you Veretians so hungry to open your wicked mouths?”

“We’re just very good at fucking, Nidya. This is our curse to bear.” Aimeric felt a soft kiss on his left ass cheek. “Now I think we should make up for lost time. You don’t mind if I go first, Nidya?”

“By all means. I want to see Rika’s pretty face when he comes again.”

“Please Jord.” Aimeric whined as he felt something hard and hot press against his backside. It had been ages since he’d had sex, several weeks since he’d been too ashamed to touch himself. And Nikandros was so warm that it took a moment for the meaning of the words to sink in. He braced his elbows against Nikandros’ chest and looked between the two of them. “ _ Again _ ?”

“You’ve never come more than once?” Jord asked, pausing and Aimeric gave a small whimper of protest. He  _ wanted  _ it. “Gods, we  _ have _ to change that.”

“Right?” Nikandros circled Aimeric’s lips with one finger until Aimeric suckled it.

“I-I don’t know if I c-can!” He mumbled as Nikandros stroked at his tongue.

“Only one way to find out.” Jord kissed the spot between Aimeric’s shoulder blades. A second finger joined in Aimeric’s mouth as Jord slid into Aimeric with a soft groan, his stubble rasping against Aimeric’s skin.

Nikandros used his free hand to tilt Aimeric’s chin up with his free hand, his dark eyes hazy with desire. He withdrew his fingers from Aimeric’s mouth when Jord began to thrust gently and saliva began to trickle down Aimeric’s chin. Apparently they wanted to utterly wreck him but he was feeling too good to really care. 

Wet fingers curled around his cock, which was half hard and still sensitive from his last orgasm, and he rocked back into Jord’s hips. 

Nikandros began to stroke him in earnest and the noises that came from Aimeric’s throat were positively obscene. Jord had been watching carefully, his hands resting firmly on Aimeric’s hips as he hit that same delicious spot over and over. He  _ was _ Veretian, through and through, with such wicked rolls of his hips. Never had sex made him cry so hard, the tears running thick down his cheeks and chin as Nikandros watched it all.

His cock felt like it was made of fire, so sensitive that it almost hurt when Nikandros rubbed his thumb over the tip of it. This type of pain was good. So fucking good.

Jord pressed flush against his back, sucking hard on Aimeric’s nape and Aimeric bit his bottom lip. 

“So pretty.” Nikandros said, his voice thick with love.

It was enough. Aimeric dug one hand into Jord’s hair, the other into the meat of Nikandros’ forearm as he came again. 

By the time Nikandros and Jord had well and truly wrung him out, it was well past nightfall and Aimeric felt as though he had had sex for the first time in his life.

He was limp and useless, his neck and collarbones riddled with soft bites and suckle marks, and he couldn’t feel his hips. His eyes and mouth were dry, throat hoarse, and hair a mess. He had cum so many times that his dick still ached; by the final few rounds it no longer hardened and had merely seeped a thin, clear stream, his cock feeling as though it had been injected with lava. 

Even now he whimpered softly whenever anything brushed against it, which was why he was still naked.

Jord had put on boxer briefs but Nikandros remained naked as well, Aimeric helplessly draped across the both of them. Their hands were gentle and constant on him; clearly they had been wanting to touch him for ages and were making up for lost time. 

“Don’t stop.” He murmured when Jord brushed his fingernails down the curve of Aimeric’s back. 

“Why did you come back, Rika?” Nikandros asked as he gently tugged the post-sex tangles from Aimeric’s hair. After so many times shaking his head helplessly against the sheets, his hair was an absolute explosion but Nikandros had the patience and gentle fingers so that there was not too much tugging on his scalp. “We saw how set you were and didn’t want to...coerce you. We thought of how your exes had isolated you and didn’t want you to feel obligated to stay with us…”

Those bastards, still causing him pain even after he’d left them. The ripples were subtle and insidious, even after over a year. 

Aimeric smiled against Jord’s skin, wondering why the phone call of all things had given him the kick in the ass he’d needed. Maybe it was because it wasn’t an offer or a request, but an order, a repayment of debt.

Auguste with his deep, sweet voice, all honey and whiskey and gold, had charmed Aimeric as easily as if the man had been sitting next to him on the bus. Aimeric could hear the smile in voice. “Oh Rika. I had to. You still owe me a favor, remember? You have to pay me back for getting you your documents. We’ve tried to push you--all three of you really--in the right direction, but you’re all so damn stubborn. So now I get to be the bad cop.”

“Is it possible?” Aimeric’s laugh was watery. 

“I am a lawyer, sweet thing. Now, here’s what you can do to pay for my very generous legal services.” 

“Our friends are so meddlesome.” Jord sighed, interrupting Aimeric’s recounting. “Did he notice it was raining outside?”

“His office is so swanky it’s in the stratosphere.” Nikandros added. 

“I think he said that you two would be aroused by seeing me in tight, wet clothes. Auguste, one. Jord and Nikandros, zero.” He laughed softly as Nikandros flicked him on the curve of his ass. “Those brothers are unstoppable. Anyway, the going rate for a Veretian national ID and health insurance card is to beg the driver to let me off at the next stoplight and to run back to the apartment to tell you both that I love you. He also said he’d buy me a private bus ride up to Arles if I decided I still wanted to go after I told you.”

“Do you?” Jord asked, shifting so he could get a better look at Aimeric. “Do you still want to go?”

“No.” Aimeric snuggled deep into Jord’s chest and gripped Nikandros’ waist with his free hand. “You can’t let me leave. You’ll never be rid of me.”

“Thank the gods.” Nikandros cupped his arm and pressed his warm lips to the side of Aimeric’s neck.

He felt so comfortable, so safe that his fool mind had to find something to worry about. “I have to let Hekla know I need my job back.” Aimeric murmured. “And I’ll need to get my gym membership back. Oh and my clothes…I might have to borrow some things from the two of you...”

Jord shook with laughter underneath him. “Nidya has some concert t-shirts that would look good on you.”

“As if any of us are going to be wearing clothes for the next week or so.” Nikandros scoffed. “We have friends in Arles who will get your things and send them back to us. Thank the gods you’re so cute.” He then cursed at Jord in Akielon, the sound as comforting as warm waves. Maybe he also had a  _ thing _ for Akielon as well, that spot inside of him itched at the sound of it. 

“I should probably see a therapist too…I don’t want to wince whenever you slap each other’s asses.”

Jord shifted so that Nikandros could take a turn holding Aimeric. He was an immovable vise of tattoos and sunlight, Aimeric only offering a soft ‘eep’ of protest as Nikandros’ arms and legs encased him and Jord like a steel trap. “Of course. I’m sure that barbed wire bastard Laurent knows a therapist somewhere in this city.”

Jord laughed against Aimeric’s back and Aimeric arched back into it. “Why do you hate him so much?”

“It’s all for show.” Jord laughed.

“Motherfucker cheats at cards!” Nikandros insisted, annoyance in his eyes as Aimeric started laughing too. “He cheats and then has the gall to try and tell me that  _ I’m _ playing the game wrong? And then he fucking  _ wins _ ? Gods, I could spit  _ fire _ !” It only made Aimeric and Jord laugh harder.

“What a reason! I thought he had like...caused some terrible insult.”

“Clearly you’ve never played cards with Laurent.” Jord laughed.

“Let’s not ruin the mood.” Nikandros grumbled before he started peppering Aimeric with kisses again. “Jord, competition. Aimeric picks the better kisser. Loser has to wear the nipple clamps again.” Jord tensed up behind Aimeric and Aimeric was torn between who he wanted to see in the clamps more. 

“Challenge accepted.” His tongue was in Aimeric’s mouth before Nikandros could fully process that Jord was game. Nikandros made a noise of annoyance, like a grumble deep in his chest and--as he took his turn--Aimeric knew he wouldn’t be able to pick.

“B-both of you f-fuckers wear the damn clamps.”

“We’re competitive.” Jord insisted. “Someone has to win. Oh! Look who’s cheating now!” Nikandros had started working his lips down to Aimeric’s swollen nipples. “Fine, I get the back then.” Though the tip of Aimeric’s cock still felt uncomfortably sensitive, it hardened slightly as they kept going down...down...

“C-Can I be selfish again?” He asked when they gave him the briefest of breaks.

“Of course.” Jord murmured from where he had taken up a spot at the small of Aimeric’s back. Nikandros nodded, his mouth too preoccupied with the dip of Aimeric’s hipbone to bother speaking aloud. 

Aimeric took a deep breath. 

  
  



	18. Sweet as Cherry Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe it; my first fic started in 2020 is done!  
> I know this is a rough time for people all around the globe, but thank you all who dropped by to leave kudos and comments! I am sort of u and down mentally these days but hearing from you all really makes my days a lot happier ;) I hope this ending is sufficiently satisfying after all the hell I've put you through. Also you finally get to see what small thing Aimeric wanted from Jord and Nik! He noticed Nik's during chapter 1 but I think it really started to eat at him after their date at the beach.  
> Big shout-out to my beta, Kittendiamore (aka. Nikanndros) who shouted mostly about how hot Nik is and thanks to Hozier as well for making me cry over the song 'Cherry Wine'. I rarely use song titles/lyrics as fic titles but the song is so fucking good, an exception had to be made.  
> Just as a follow up, normally I start writing my next fic once I've finished with a current one but...as I said up above, I'm dealing with some small creative difficulties these days. I can't promise when I'll be able to write/post my next fic but I'm hoping I can get some chapters done and up by late June or early July.  
> Stay safe, lovely readers, and enjoy this final chapter of Cherry Wine!

**18\. Sweet as Cherry Wine**

Loyse had decided to splurge in coming down to Marlas for a visit.

Though she felt constant guilt for relying on her older sons, though her paltry share of the separation money had come in, though she was as frugal as ever, her older ones and Aimeric had insisted. They had offered to pay for her, insisting that she deserved a short voyage on the more expensive high-speed train from Arles to Marlas. It was one week and besides she had not had a relaxing vacation in years.

She had to repeat it to herself: she deserved to visit her wild, little Aimeric for a week. It was a celebration of her emancipation, of her and her sons’ freedom.

It was hard not to feel guilt.

The terror had gone on so long that it was normal in their lives. She saw it in the careful ways her older ones acted; they did not want to become their father but...even worse would be to fall into the role of Loyse, the insidious route Aimeric had almost been lost to. She’d do anything to make it up to them. 

The first, terrifying step had been to leave. 

She jolted as the train conductor announced their arrival in Marlas, warning the passengers that if they did not disembark then they would not be able to leave the train again until Lentos. She resisted the urge to duck her face behind her curls--it was the little habits that were the hardest to break--and pushed her way to the luggage hold to retrieve her suitcase. From the main station, it was a straight shot on the green line to the apartment he shared with Jord and Nikandros.

Jord and Nikandros…

Even though she had only met them once, they had made such a good impression on her. Aimeric talked about them so often, Loyse felt as though she had known them for ages.

She owed them part of her very soul for what they had done for Aimeric.

So lost in thought over her excitement for the week ahead, Loyse almost missed the stop for the Olbos district. It only took about five minutes to walk from the station to the address of a very pretty apartment building that Aimeric had sent to her a few days before. 

She carted her small suitcase--a loan from her son, Etienne--up the flight of stairs to the second floor and heard playful bickering coming from inside as she knocked on Aimeric’s apartment door. 

“You can leave my house, you snake.” She heard someone say as the door opened.

“Nidya, _please_. Damen will be so betrayed if he hears you flirting with me like that! Calling me a snake, you minx.” The second voice was the very definition of a cultured Arles accent, a laugh in the tone and Loyse was suddenly faced with a man who had the face of an angel. He was smiling impishly, blue eyes sparkling and Loyse recognized him from some of the photos Aimeric had sent of himself with his friends. 

At his shoulder was another man, slightly older with slightly darker coloring, but with the same elegance and fine features that they might have been brothers.

“Ah, lovely! You look just like him! Nidya, you have a guest. Come in, please.” The older one wheeled her bag in and she was too thunderstruck by the handsome liveliness of his face, by his hand on her waist, by the kisses he pressed to the corners of her mouth to introduce herself. “No wonder Rika is such a beauty! With you as a mother.”

“Guska, let her get a word in edgewise, for god’s sake.” The younger man was so gorgeous she wouldn’t have found words even if there was silence. “I am Laurent, this is my brother Auguste and you must be Loyse.”

“We’re friends of Rika’s.” Auguste said, almost sweeping her off her feet as Laurent moved to shut the door. Loyse’s heart had not fluttered so much since she was in high school and she wondered how these charming brothers had not completely taken over the entirety of Arles.

“Hello.”

“Aimeric has been talking about you for the past two weeks; you’ll have to come by our apartment later on.” Laurent got a look of delighted wickedness in his eyes as he looked back into the apartment. “Nidya, you are no kind of host, having one of your guests take the bags of another guest!”

“You are an unwanted intruder, at best,” Nikandros and another Akielon--both tall, dark, and handsome--appeared from behind Laurent brandishing cups of Akielon yogurt. Nikandros smiled at Loyse and she could not help but smile back; Aimeric really had the most attractive people around him. “Hello Loyse, welcome to Marlas. I would invite you to come in if _someone_ would give you some space.”

Auguste grinned at him and all but escorted Loyse out of the entryway. 

She was always hesitant when entering someone else’s home and resisted the urge to pull down the sleeves that were no longer there. She was wearing shorter sleeves these days. 

Nikandros was in a power struggle with Laurent over Loyse’s small suitcase and Laurent released it suddenly, causing Nikandros to stumble backwards a step. The other Akielon coughed back a laugh and tried to avoid Nikandros’ withering glare by introducing himself.

“Damianos, ma’am. I’m Laurent’s husband and Nik’s good friend.”

“He’s also going to be the godfather of our child if he continues to make me laugh so hard.” Laurent smiled and it was like fine art.

“Congratulations.” She murmured to the both of them and Damianos dimpled as he smiled.

“Adoption goes through next month.” Laurent beamed. “And now all that’s needed is an Akielon godfather but Nidya is being _so_ rude to me, even though he owes me and my brother more favors than he owes the gods.”

Nikandros looked at Loyse as though he could not believe the gall of Laurent. “Gods save me from Vere. I’ve already agreed to be the godfather; what more do you want from me? Damen will you please go home so I can allow Rika’s mother a moment to relax?”

Damianos patted Nikandros on the back before picking Laurent up entirely; Laurent flushed at the show of power. “Fine, fine. We’ll see you all tonight anyway. Ma’am, it was a pleasure.”

“Delighted.” Auguste kissed her cheeks again before following them out and she found herself dizzied by the entire encounter with the three of them, as if she had been swept up in a typhoon for all of five minutes.

Nikandros groaned as the three of them left and the apartment was quiet again. “Those brothers...well, I suppose we have some even wilder ones in our group so it’s good that you got a small taste before dinner tonight. Please, come in. Jord’s finishing up work and Aimeric is at the gym so they should be home in an hour or two. I’ll give you a tour in the meantime.”

He was as good as his word, showing her around their lovely home and carefully avoiding any mention of her husband--well, _ex_ -husband. 

“Here’s our spare room.”

Loyse inspected the guest room, pleased by what she saw.

It was tastefully decorated in cream, green, and beige and the bed was a reasonable size, as opposed to the giant monstrosity of a mattress that took up the master bedroom. Her eyes were drawn to a tin of dried flowers like her mother had always kept on the bedside table and the massive collage of pictures taking up the frame above the bed. It made her heart light to see Aimeric featured in the majority of the photographs. 

She had never seen him smile so much and in so many exotic locations: with Jord and Nikandros at the beach, with a massive group of young leggy things outside a cafe, Aimeric being carried by that debonair blond Auguste in a tailored suit, Nikandros looking positively miserable as Jord and Aimeric grinned in the center of a grape arbor, mouths purple. Loyse could have looked at the photos for ages. 

“Please ignore if any of them are tilted,” Nikandros said from behind her and she tensed to keep from flinching. More little habits. But if Nikandos noticed, he kept it to himself. “We were drinking wine while choosing photos and things got out of hand. Speaking of wine, would you like some?”

She smiled and Nikandros blinked owlishly. “Though I may be more reserved, I _am_ Veretian. Are you alright?”

Nikandros shook his head and broke out into one of those bright, disarming smiles that Akielons had somehow perfected. “Yes, yes. It’s just...when you smile, it reminds me of Aimeric. I...I really like his smile.”

Loyse patted his arm. “I do too, though...they used to be quite rare. I’m...so happy that you both seem to make it easier for him.”

Nikandros flushed, looking like a man helpless in love. “Me too.”

Loyse had always nursed wine and was only halfway through her second glass when she heard the front door open. 

“ _Maman_!”

She recognized his voice though she hardly recognized her sweet boy as he came through the front door to embrace her.

His dark hair was long and shining, wayward curls escaping from his ponytail, and he had gotten back that lean, healthy look he had had in high school when he had been a competitive runner. His skin had the brown glaze of a summer spent near the beach and he had lost that...that strange look in his eyes.

Loyse had noticed it in him when he was still quite young: a sharp, wary look like he was always contemplating bolting or preparing himself to be hit. She had always felt so guilty seeing him like that.

But it was gone now. 

Aimeric looked buoyant, light on his feet. 

He embraced her carefully, pulling back so that he could get a better look at her. “You look so good! Are Etienne and Luc treating you well? And Xavier too? Oh let me get your things!” She had not heard him talk so much so quickly since he was a very small boy. 

“I already put them in the guest room, Rika.” Nikandros called out with a laugh from where he was cleaning up in the kitchen. Apparently he was also enchanted by Aimeric bouncing off the walls and chattering up a storm. 

“I have so much to tell you! I finished my secondary exam so I should be able to enroll in university in the fall or the spring. Anechka and I are going to go together.” As Aimeric sat next to her, it took Loyse a moment to remember who ‘Anechka’ was, since Aimeric had so many close friends. Then she remembered the tall boy with the beautiful mass of red hair, the pictures Aimeric often sent her of the two of them exploring the city or taking day trips or having brunch together. “You’ll meet him tonight when we go to Eld. We’re thinking of majoring in something for hospitality management.”

“How in the hell is Anechka going to be in _hospitality_ management?” Nikandros asked. “He’d drop kick the first guest who was even slightly unreasonable. Berya would have to get involved and it would be a whole _thing_.”

“He’d be better at it than Lazar. Lazar’s idea of hospitality is a good wifi connection and a plastic cover under the sheets.” Aimeric’s smile grew wider as Nikandros laughed helplessly into a washcloth.

Loyse did not know who this ‘Lazar’ fellow was, but he sounded fascinating. She placed her hand over Aimeric’s. “I’m so proud. And I’m sure you’ll succeed in whichever major you choose.” 

Aimeric rested his head on her shoulder and she ran her fingers through his curls. “Thanks _maman_. Have you had any luck finding work? Have you heard from--” His brow furrowed and Loyse felt her fingers tremble a little. He did not need to hear him finish his thought.

“No, love. No…” No word from the man that had put them through so much hell. She wanted to keep it that way. In fact, she was surprised at how easy it had been to leave once she had taken that first step. 

“ _Good_.” 

She was so comfortable having him close again and took her time admiring her sweet youngest son. He smelled of pool chlorine and fresh laundry and a smile was toying at his lips whenever he caught sight of Nikandros moving around in the kitchen. When he shifted, she saw a glint down the collar of his shirt. 

“Oh, you have a necklace.” Loyse was surprised by the gold around his neck as Aimeric had never been one to wear jewelry before. “May I see?”

Aimeric flushed pink as he pulled the chain out from the neck of his shirt, a pendant like a coin lying heavy in his palm. She looked at it carefully, seeing Aimeric, Jord, and Nikandros’ names carved in Veretian on one side in a spiral and--she assumed--their names in Akielon on the opposite side. It was clearly a lover’s necklace and she would bet money that Jord and Nikandros would have the same pendant.

“Nidya and Jord bought it for me.” He sounded so sweet, so happy, so proud that Loyse could not help but return the pendant to his hand, closing his fingers around it. 

“It’s lovely.”

Aimeric smiled at her, wide and guileless. “I’m happy you’re here, _maman_.” He glanced up when the front door opened and the bright happiness of his expression increasing tenfold as he got a good look at who had arrived. “Jord!”

Aimeric bolted from the couch so that he could leap at Jord, the man simply dropping his briefcase so that he could catch Aimeric around the waist. His smile went to Aimeric’s neck. 

“Rika! Nidya! I’m home.” He might have stayed like that for ages if his light eyes hadn’t taken note of Loyse sitting stiffly on the couch. His smile widened and he pressed a kiss to Aimeric’s forehead, one arm staying around Aimeric’s waist. “Loyse! Welcome! We’re so happy to have you here.”

Aimeric was glowing, his gaze soft as he looked at Jord’s profile.

“Will you Veretians be ready in like twenty minutes?” Nikandros asked, drying off his dark forearms. “Or do you need more time to look better than you already do?” His tone was so fond that even Loyse blushed. 

“As if I could go to Eld dressed in exercise gear.” Aimeric snorted. “Anechka would lecture me for an hour.” 

“I’ll go change now.” Loyse offered. She did not want to keep them waiting as punctuality had been beaten into her. She doubted they would be so violently opposed to waiting a little longer than twenty minutes but...still. Those little habits were hard to break. 

“We’ll wait for you, _maman_.” Aimeric promised and her heart felt a little lighter.

She turned back just before entering her room and was filled with soft delight.

Nikandros had come out from the kitchen, a little soap still on his elbow, and had joined in on the embrace. Though Aimeric and Jord had likely only been away for a few hours at most, the three of them were embracing like they had not held each other in months. Jord was grinning like a fool and yelped when Aimeric poked him in the side and Nikandros ruffled his curls into a riot in response. And they kissed him.

They kissed his cheeks and forehead and mouth like he was the sweetest, most precious thing on earth. It was obvious that they loved him and Loyse was so relieved. No one deserved love more than her sweet, wild Aimeric. 


End file.
